Living Legends
by commodore17
Summary: One particular weekend brings forth the opportunity of a lifetime for a certain up-and-coming archer. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey all. This isn't my first fanfiction I'm putting off With a Passion until I can get a new computer. The one I'm using is a total piece of crap. No seriously. Its battery life is literally five minutes, and you have to wiggle the charger a different way to get it to charge. Enough about my problems.

This story takes place in between the event of book six and seven.

Oh and sorry for any errors that you may find in this first chapter. I'll try to improve on that.

**Disclaimer: Is their anyway I can switch identities with John Flanagan for one day? You know, like that one John Travolta movie? **

Chapter One

Crowley shifted uncomfortably in his seat for perhaps the thousandth time that night. He had been reading documents for what seemed like ages, and the neatly stacked list to to-be-read papers did not seem to lessen. He sighed. Being a Ranger came with its late nights, thought Crowley. He sagged lower in his seat as he retrieved yet another document from the intimidating list. This one was another update on Araluen and its antics that never ceased to slow. Battlemaster Erin had been seriously wounded in a hunting accident, Lady Joan had her third child, and Ranger Quinn found an apprentice.

Crowley yawned. He didn't care; he was too tired to care. He had been reading these kind of updates since the break of afternoon. It was now well into the night, and Crowley contemplated whether or not he should take a short coffee break. He set a deadline, as he often did on late nights like these. He'd finish the next four documents, then make himself coffee. Crowley then thought for a second. Four documents? That sure seemed like a lot. He couldn't risk falling asleep. These reports don't read themselves, he thought. Maybe three. Three didn't seem like much.

But neither did two.

Settling with two then a break, Crowley tore open another envelope, caring less about a clean rip. It contained the same useless updates; the ones Crowley could care less about. The other report however, contained a notice regarding the assignment of an apprentice. A part of it said that the most ideal time to seek an apprentice are between the months of August and November.

Crowley had thought about an apprentice before. It could get awfully quiet in the cabin by himself,he thought. And Crowley, when not with the burden of work as the Ranger Commandant, was usually bored beyond belief. An apprentice would solve all these things and more_, _Thought the sandy haired Ranger. Besides, it was late July, and some craftmasters already began their ever seeking trek for a young protege.

Taking the document with him, Crowley wearily proceeded to the kitchen area of the cabin. Starting his hourly pastime of making coffee, he stopped for a second to examine the room not too far from his. From what Crowley could see, it was cluttered with boxes and papers and such. An apprentice would fix _that _problem, he thought. He took a seat on a table by the brewing pot of coffee, now filling the cozy cabin with the fresh aroma of coffee beans, a smell Crowley had become so familiar with as of late. This was his eighth pot that night. Speaking of which, Crowley did not even know if it was even still Thursday. Perhaps he had worked into the wee hours of Friday morning. Whatever the time, he was awake nevertheless, and would be awake for a while now, considering the strong effects of this favored drink among most Rangers.

The coffee still had time before it would finish, about fifteen minutes or so. Crowley used the time to further investigate the clogged bedroom. Walking in, he noticed the strong smell of paper mingling with the faint scent of coffee. He stared at the room. There were boxes filled with old reports and documents everywhere, even on the bed. Since Crowley was the Ranger Commandant, a slightly bigger cabin had been built in his favor. And a man like Crowley, when not on a frequent string of trips, knew that beds meant everything. At least to him they did. "Ranger's rarely ever get to sleep on beds. So when we do, we usually make sure its worth the while," is what Crowley's mentor, Pritchard, had told him before he was exiled. Recycling his old teacher's saying, Crowley had requested a bigger bed for both rooms, to accompany the generous size of them.

Rummaging through the papers, Crowley realized that they had no real significance. In fact, Crowley noticed by reading some of them that they were years old, a couple dating back to when he was a young Ranger. He knew he would have to clean this dusty mess if he ever were to be assigned an apprentice. Of course, he could easily make his apprentice clean it, now that he thought about it. Halt sure seemed to get a kick out of it, he thought. With good results as well. Gilan and Will were well disciplined, proven by their hard work as full fledged Rangers. His apprentice would be as disciplined as Halt's. He couldn't help but to smile at all the positives that having an apprentice might bring.

No, he was getting ahead of himself. Besides, he was only hypothetically thinking. He was far too busy for an apprentice. Between all the sleep depriving reports and the general organization of the Ranger Corps, the extra responsibility of an apprentice would be nearly impossible, even with an abundant supply of coffee. Crowley walked back to where his coffee brewed. He prepared a fresh cup for himself as he finished the report.

_Please make sure the assignment were to be with parental consent. All assignments must be reported to me, Baron Edwin of Araluen Fief._

Crowley stopped there. The man acknowledged himself a great deal, he thought. Crowley, however, was truly interested in the parental consent portion of what he had just read. He had great friends within the fief, some of whom had children. Among one of Crowley's closest friends was Lady Katelyn, a widow. Her husband had been a Battlemaster, dying in defending the Baron from an attempted assassination. The two had a boy named Nicholas some fourteen years ago. And from what he had heard from others in the castle, the boy was an excellent shot. But Crowley had rarely interacted with the kid, only when Nick was too young to remember. Of course, Crowley could just ask Katelyn on her son's thoughts on Rangers.

Or, he could do it the traditional way.

Like the way Halt had done Will, and even Gilan. Indirectness seemed like the best way to go, thought Crowley. It would preserve the sense of mystery that people associated with Rangers. Of course, he would have to tell Katelyn about his interest in her son. She wouldn't fret; the two both sensed a growing relationship between one another. But where could Crowley watch Nick in the act of archery, assessing his skill, while keeping the mysterious aura and protocol that Rangers carried.

The archery fields! Crowley sipped on his coffee. When he and Halt were younger, they both had created a game. It was a simple merge of capture the flag and elimination, combined with the elements of a Ranger's necessities: accuracy, silence, and unseen movement. It first started exclusively at the annual Gathering. Over the years, many years in fact, the game had spread to the public by an unknown cause. Perhaps a bored, retired Ranger had leaked the game to his friends. Nevertheless, the game had become popular, to the point where tournaments were held, and teams were made

The game was named Woodsball. The suffix of the word had came from the arrow tips, which were so blunt that they resembled a sphere. Woodsball games were intended for the more plant dense areas, hence the name given. They were usually long matches, and a player would have to concede skill in unseen movement and patience in order to excel against other competitors; the perfect game for Rangers. Because of Woodsball's increasing popularity, Crowley had known of some Rangers who used this game as a recruiting method. The common problem was that most players were over fifteen, and had already began assessment in their chosen craft. Crowley wouldn't have that problem though. Nick was only fourteen, and didn't seem to have any idea of what craft he wanted to partake in, according to his mother, whom Crowley had spoken to the previous week. And Crowley knew that Nick would be at the fields later, as today was the "Opening Charge" of an annual game called Living Legends.

The game was held at one the largest dedicated archery fields in the country, located in Araluen. There were two teams of usually two hundred, sometimes more. It was hosted and captained by he and Halt. The game lasted a weekend, and players would ultimately put their skills to the test against each other. Sides were picked erratically: the first two hundred to arrive picked their teams. A great deal of strategy went into the game, however. Because of the large teams, strategical commands, such as flanking, were issued by the team captains. Nevertheless, it was a competition between Crowley and closest friend Halt, to see who had the better wit. In years previous, Halt had overcome Crowley with his blazing fast thought process. Halt would soon meet his defeat, and this year hadn't looked any better, he thought.

Crowley poured himself another cup of coffee. He was still considerably tired, but more attentive thanks to the powerful stimulant. Maybe I could sneak a look at him, maybe later today, he thought. He had concluded a while ago that it was well past midnight. Crowley would watch him for the weekend, examine his skill in each Ranger-relevant criteria, then make the big decision. But to to that, Crowley would have to free up time, starting with the thick stack of to-be-read reports. He ended the lantern in the kitchen and started for his bedroom.

Then he turned back, grabbed the pot of coffee, and returned to the dimly lit room. If he planned on finishing the reports, The coffee would just have to go with him.

***Pants in exhaustion* Done! Sorry if it's too long. It didn't look nearly as long on my iPhone's notes as it did on LibreOffice. **

**Any who, be sure to review. I get excited whenever I get reviews o_O. Until then, my fellow authors. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice, John Flanagan does.**

Hey guys, I'm back. First off, thanks for the two reviews that I received from flaminglake and uzerfriendlygmail(dot)com. I know it's not much, but I was beginning to doubt this story.

Anyway, my rationalization behind having an apprentice between the months of August and November is this: The first book is, of course, when Will becomes an apprentice Ranger. In that book, harvest day takes place. I'd assume that harvesting crops would come before the cold months, signaling the end of summer, or late July/early August. Then in book three, when Will is captured by the Skandians, it's full blown winter. And Skandia isn't far from Araluen, so it must have been winter there as well. That makes book two mid/late fall going into early winter. I might be missing some, but that's what I got out of it.

**Shorter Chapter this week. Chapter Three's going to be particularly big, and this chapter is a little unnecessary. ****  
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Hope that helps!

Chapter Two:

Halt knew talent when he saw it. It gave him the responsibility of teaching Gilan and Will the art of being Rangers, and Halt couldn't have been more proud of his work. They were both excellent Rangers, even by Halt's strict standards. But those days were since gone; Gilan had earned his silver oakleaf chain a while back, and Will now had the burden of looking over Seacliff, a tacit, boring fief. In a sense, it was all a bittersweet feeling. Halt was quite grateful with having time to finally rest and relax his old self, but gloom now that he was once again alone; not to mention utterly bored. That would change later today, though. Both Gilan and Will were visiting for the annual Living Legends: the weekend where Halt would once again gain the edge over his dearest friend Crowley.

Which could very well be a reason why he had awoken in a generally lighter mood. He already prepared his beloved coffee, setting out two extra cups as he knew his two former apprentices would be there shortly. He had also packed for the day ahead. Of course, he had made sure that the arrows in his three quivers were bluntly tipped; a puncture wound was the last thing anyone needed. Still, with teams as big as two hundred, injury was almost inevitable, which was why he packed a makeshift aid kit. It was an old coin purse, but filled with solvents and bandages and such items. And always, he packed his trusty longbow. The same, old and rugged longbow that he had used for years on end.

Halt had just finished filling canteens with water from the dedicated barrel when he overheard Abelard's greeting noise. It was Will, he figured. Seacliff was significantly closer than Meric, about half a day or so closer. Gilan would've had to do some serious riding to catch up with Will and his shaggy beast. Unsurprisingly, Halt heard a knock on the cabin door. "Come in," he said, almost instantly. A young figure walked through the door.

"Hullo Halt," said Will, smiling at the sight he still considered home. It hadn't been long since he had left for his own fief. "I'd assume you've made coffee? Halt nodded in reply.

"Your assumptions are correct. It's over there," said the older Ranger, gesturing toward the pot of the steaming drink. "And I'd assume that you've eaten already?"

"Your assumptions are correct,' Will imitated his old teacher. He missed friendly byplay between he and Halt. It was terribly boring in Seacliff. Halt took a seat at the kitchen table and sipped on his coffee.

"Be ready," he said. "I've heard the competition this weekend is none too light." Will smiled as he poured a cup of the bitter drink.

"I'm always ready Halt," the younger Ranger replied. "Not all of us are old and weathered you know." Halt scowled at his former apprentice. What nerve, he thought.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," he said warily. Halt knew that he was in top shape for his age. But in any case, he was also aware that he wasn't getting any younger, as he'd been told. "And for your information, I can easily keep up with you young people. I do it all the time."

"Can you Halt?" Will teasingly asked, taking a seat on the other side of the table, mug in hand. The same cheerful smile was still streaked across his face as Halt glared daggers at him.

"Yes, I can," He said slowly, his piercing eyes staring at Will. Despite how harsh and serious Halt sounded, Will knew he was only joking. It took years to realize it, but Halt had a very clever and hidden sense of humor. Will could remember his first days of his apprenticeship under Halt. He often had a hard time deciphering whether or not the grizzled Ranger was being funny. Whatever the case was, it was far better than Crowley's dead humor.

Abelard and Tug whined softly, a greeting to the Blaze and her lanky rider. Dismounting his bay mare, an ebullient Gilan strolled through the door. "Oh boy," exclaimed Halt. "Here comes comedian number two."

"Oh Halt," said the tall Ranger. "Don't be so peevish." Halt sighed. He hated young people with a newly found passion. Will heard Halt's cynical gesture and hurried to change the subject.

"Hullo Gilan," said Will.

"How are you today, Gilan," Halt said with bitter formality. Gilan laughed as he poured a mug of coffee and sat with his friends.

"I'm doing great, Halt," he answered, imitating the icy exchange.

"That's always nice to hear," Halt said, putting an end to the greeting.

"So Gilan," Will began. "What team will you be playing for?" Gilan regarded his friend.

"Probably Crowley's. Three Rangers on one team would be completely unfair." As the Rangers spoke, they knew that only one ranger could have a dramatic effect on this weekend. It was another circumstance where the saying "One riot, one Ranger" applied. Halt nodded.

"Our best bet is to split each team with two Rangers. It makes the game somewhat fair, as well as an opportunity to seek talent," he said mildly. Will frowned. Why would Halt want to seek talent? Unless- Will smiled a large, sheepish grin,

"Halt! Don't tell me. Are you really going to have another apprentice?" he asked ecstatically. Halt shook his head.

"No, I'm not. But that doesn't mean Crowley isn't either." he replied. Will thought. Araluen was closest to Redmont, by the crest of a large hill. Crowley was the Ranger Commandant, so his pending apprentice would probably spend time with Halt. And Will frequently traveled to Redmont, to meet his old friend Horace and see his dear Alyss. He shrugged; it was okay, he guessed. Halt saw Will's sign of content and moved on.

"We're leaving in a couple minutes," he said. "We need to get there early, Will and I. It's our chance to steal the better players." Gilan laughed. Now he knew one of the reasons why Halt had won every year.

Packed bags and mounting their horses, the Rangers were off to Araluen, the common folk wondering why there had been three. They didn't care though. There was work to be done. Sometime along the way, Will turned in his saddle to face Halt. "Halt?" he asked. Halt turned.

"Yes Will?"

"So, why _aren't _you looking for an apprentice?" The older Ranger chuckled softly.

"Because Will, I'm old and weathered."

**Done! **

**If you're reading this, could you please drop a review? Even if it's anonymous, it still goes a long way. **

**Nick will be introduced in the next chapter. I'm still trying to get people over the general reluctance of reading a story where one of the main characters is an OC.  
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**Oh, and I'll try to upload every Wednesday or Thursday, if I'm not too busy.**

**Thanks**

**Avery**


	3. Opening Charge

Hey guys, back with chapter three. Now its a big chapter, just to warn.

flaminglake: The only fief that used to be in between Redmont and Araluen was Gorlan, according to the map. And we all know what happened to Gorlan. But the map is extremely vauge; it only shows about 7 or 8 fiefs, and they're all over the place. I wouldn't be surprised there were fiefs in between though.

Also:

**1.) **Don't expect weekly updates anymore. School is back in a couple days, and my schedule is even more hectic than before, trying balancing baseball practice and paintball into equation. So yeah, I'll try for every couple weeks

**2.)** C'mon people, review! Even if it's anonymous, I'm always looking to get better. It takes five minutes!

**3.) **I'm not all that good at dialogue or heavy description, as you may find in this chapter, so if you have any tips, send me a private message or include it in you review. Thanks.

**4.) **Excuse any grammatical mistakes; my spell check is being iffy.

**5.) **Cookies. CHOCOLATE cookies.

Okay, on to the story.

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><p>Chapter Three:<p>

Opening Charge

**3.**

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><p>Although the late months, it was still considerably warm within the fief of Araluen. A dull heat prefaced the weather, the occasional breeze piercing through the constant chain of humidity. In a northern country such as Araluen, heat this late into the year wasn't expected. It had only rained twice in all of two weeks, and some farmers wondered whether Harvest Day should come a tad early, in case of a potential drought. Today could very well be a day where the folk carried on without the excessive clothing, the wealthier using their servants for another cause.<p>

But about four hundred wouldn't find the weather significant, as today's events held the anticipated "Opening Charge" for the event named Living Legends, a large scenario game created by two Rangers. Opening Charge was important, as the winning team would receive a starting push of confidence, a momentum that could power the team through the remaining weekend. This weekend would be the ultimate test of endurance for players. Playing hours ran until a remarkably late hour, and the normal player reported to the fields early, for a chance to walk the courses and seek any possible vantage points.

Among the ragtag group of early birds was a lone figure, sitting at the desk in the large tent. He thanked the large fabric; it shaded him from the sun's powerful and energy sapping rays. He was visibly bored, and would usually rest his head in the palm of his right hand. It was early, about eight o' clock. The young man wondered whether the imminent lack of sleep was worth the free admission to the game; a fee of twenty royals was required to participate, a part of the pretentious Baron Edwin's plan to receive enormous profit for the weekend.

Nick sighed; he wasn't particularly fond of mornings. In fact, he hated them. But inevitably, he knew he would have to wait for eager players to arrive. He had volunteered for a temporary receptionist job for the weekend. At a cost of a few more hours of sleep, Nick had free admission to the weekend's events, although he now questioned whether it was worth omitting the fee. He shrugged. Twenty more for free spending, he thought.

He sleepily tousled through his black disorderly version of a shortened haircut. It was eight o' clock, and he had been waiting silently since six, to accommodate the ones who arrived extensively early. The true playing portion of the day didn't start until twelve, the prefacing talk regarding rules and instruction starting at eleven. There wasn't much to do, except to inspect his belongings once more. Hell, the boy thought. It was something to do.

Nick was the proud product of Lady Kaitlyn and the late Battlemaster John. Often described as having his father's physical frame, Nick was quite tall for his age, already pressing against the average height for an Araluen. It was funny, he thought. People who often mistaken him for older had looks of bewilderment when Nick would say his real age of fourteen. He had an airing sense of confidence, an accompanying factor in the common allegation. Many say that he'd gotten that from his father, whom was regarded as one of the strictest battlemasters in all of Araluen. From what Nick had heard, John was severely strict, and had offered little leniency and resilience in even the most simplest of matters, all before his sudden death.

Nick was also patient, concluding that he'd received that from the other, Lady Kaitlyn. Known for exuding extreme patience, Kaitlyn was widely acknowledged for her near infallibility in diplomatic rendezvous. When Nick was very younger, too young to look after himself, his mother would sometimes bring him along to diplomatic missions. The meetings would seemingly always have the one member who anyone else wouldn't exactly call bright, the person saying things that would normally spark the annoyance of other diplomatic authority. Nick would then glance at Kaitlyn, and wouldn't see the slightest hint of exasperation as exuded by the rest.

Nick proceeded to where his pack lay, carrying his items that he needed for the day ahead. He had two bows: a crossbow and a longbow. Beside them were two quivers of blunt arrows. An extra whipcord, glue, and other repairment parts were in a small pocket within the pack. Because of the humid weather, Kaitlyn had suggested a canteen. She had also suggested bandages and solvents, but Nick managed to convince her otherwise.

He then moved to his attire. Normally, the tactical archers would wear thicker clothing, to break the impact of an arrow. But because of the weather, Nick only wore a long sleeved shirt made of a lighter cloth. He had noted that it also looked smaller when it wasn't on his slim frame. He wore long trousers followed by hard boots. It was simple yet protecting, he thought.

Nick preferred crossbows. To him they offered great speed, but at a cost of range. It didn't matter though; Nick was the more aggressive player. But it didn't necessarily come with positive outcomes. He gingerly touched one of many bruises from the last weekend. He tried for a rush, but was immediately picked off by a volley of arrows. Despite the blunt tips, the arrows still propelled at dangerous speeds, and would deliver a crushing impact at close range. An adrenaline pumped Nick made the mistake of not worrying about the arrow speed, and suffered a clear consequence. He had tried to carry the team, not to any avail now he remembered the terrible loss; which reminded Nick.

Being there for so long, Nick had just about noticed everything going on around him: The players stretching their stiff muscles, going over tactical plans and points, the staff setting boundaries for playing areas, and so on. What he hadn't noticed until now is that he had forgotten to sign up for a team. He knew about the rule where the first two hundred picked their teams, and Nick was a very publicly based person; almost every young teen in the fief was. He too had heard about Ranger Halt's deadly accuracy with the bow, and even more so about his overall legend. However, he had heard more about the Ranger Will as of late. Countless times, about admirable things such as helping in the final defeat of a character named Mogarath, saving the princess Cassandra in the process, and commanding an army of Skandians. Also, as of recent, a siege in Macindaw. And Ranger Will would most likely be on Halt's team, Nick figured.

He would've expected for the list neatly headed "Team Halt" to be substantially fuller than the list etched "Team Crowley", but a quick glance said otherwise. Halt's team had only fifteen players signed out of the total forty three that had arrived, which made him wonder, since Crowley wasn't nearly as popular as Halt. Nick could sign under Crowley's name and be like the rest. But then again, he could sign under Halt's team and see the legend for the first time, his apprentice included. He was eager to see what this man may look like. Besides, If all the better players like himself played for Crowley's team, it wouldn't be fair.

And Nick was all for fairness.

Smiling a bit, Nick seized a pen present on the desk. Then, he moved the list to where he could write. "Nick River" he wrote on the next blank line. "There," he said, satisfied with his decision. He moved the paper and pen back to where it was neatly placed on the corner of the desk so where it faced anyone coming in, and sat back in his chair. He yawned, remembering how sleepy he was. The bulk of people wouldn't arrive for another hour or so. He kicked his feet onto the desk, and put his hands behind his head. From there, he let his thoughts run wild until he dozed, waiting to be awoken by the next arrival.

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><p>The three Rangers rode in a morning silence, their horses' hooves barely making a sound on the cobblestone road. For the main part of the ride, Gilan had simply observed the beautiful scenery, taking in the plants losing their green, giving the vastly tall oak trees a variety of color ranging from sharp red to a quiet brown. Meric wasn't nearly as beautiful as Redmont, he noted. The village of Wensley was mostly still asleep, the innkeepers and restaurants preparing for the day ahead. Gilan deeply inhaled the morning air, and frowned at the underlying humidity. Halt saw the gesture and decided it would be time to break the silence.<p>

"The air troubling you?" He asked. Gilan quickly glanced at Halt. He hadn't expected for anyone to break the peaceful silence, nor catch his sign of discontent.

"No, it's just the weather," he answered. "It's awfully warm for this time of year, isn't it?"

Like Gilan, Will had been in his own state of thought. He too had noticed how colorful the plant life was, and how it contrasted with the arrangement of inns and taverns. Doing so, he couldn't help but to notice how everything had seemed to fall into place for him over the last several years. It seemed like yesterday when he was a fifteen year old boy, insecure and unsure as could be. Then he'd met Halt, and despite his subtlety, was possibly the best thing that could have happened to him. From there everything seemed to turn around for the young Ranger. He had friends who he could trust; who he could depend on, which was a genuinely new feeling to him. Today is perfect, he thought. In the midst of his internal reminiscing, he heard the simple chatter of two of his closest friends.

Halt nodded. "Yes it is; I was afraid it might be." He reached for a bag he'd been carrying since they had left. Will and Gilan watched like two hawks as Halt fingered the front of the pack, trying to open it. Once he did, he unveiled two cloaks, similar to the ones they had on.

"Switch into these," said the bearded Ranger, handing both Gilan and Will new cloaks. Will immediately noticed the lighter color. He had also noticed that Halt had been wearing the new cloak for quite some time. He originally wanted to point it out, but his thoughts had consumed him at the moment.

Swapping cloaks, Gilan liked the lighter fabric. It was obviously made for the warmer climate, he thought. It still had the cowl, which preserved a Ranger's mystery. Now the morning air circulated throughout his body, and he found the cool feeling to his liking, likewise for Will.

The three horses had stopped a little while ago on command. Halt, who had watched the other two examine their new cloaks down to every knit, needed to get back on the way. It wouldn't be long before more people arrived, and Halt still needed to observe the courses.

"Now ladies," he started. "Can we get back on the road?"

They urged their horses into the methodical canter they were once in and continued their trip. By now, they were at the crossroads between Redmont and Araluen. The glorious fief of Gorlan used to be near these crossroads, a marvelous sight to see from afar. The three rode in an memorial silence, remembering the chain of events that caused the fief's demise.

Halt had remembered a more gruesome scene that had become lodged in his memory. He could perfectly recall himself being attacked by the Kalkara. He had been horribly injured, and had been ready for death when his apprentice, Will saved him. He also remembered the events following that, but they didn't seem relevant. It was Will who broke the silence with, of course, a question.

"So Halt," the newer Ranger began. "What should we expect to see there?" Halt regarded his companion.

"A lot of people, that's for sure," Halt answered. "Which is why we need to get there earlier."

Gilan laughed. "Is that really why Halt? He asked. "Or is it that you want to beat Crowley there?"

Halt glared warily at his other former apprentice. Unlike Will's, Gilan's apprenticeship had been more comedic. Halt was sure that Gilan remembered some of the pranks he had pulled against him, and the consequences that followed.

"No, that's not it." lied Halt, with no hint of sarcasm "What made you think of that?"

Will chuckled briefly. He knew that Halt was a very competitive person. It was the only thing that seemed to lighten the old man's mood. During the later years of his apprenticeship, Will often had target practice competitions with his mentor. Despite vigorous and frequent practice, Halt would always have the better shot.

"You're definitely competitive to a certain degree," said Will. Halt smiled beneath his cloak.

"Me? Competitive? How could you ever think of something as absurd and false as that?" Halt asked again, still with no sarcasm. Like the other two, Halt was excited about today's Opening Charge, although he wouldn't dare let his emotions show. This day was near decent for the man. He was with his two former apprentices, for a start. He would spend the entire weekend with the two, and he couldn't have been any more content. Sleeping arrangements would be a challenge though, especially for the tall one. It didn't matter to Halt though. There's a word for this, Halt thought.

The three Rangers entered Araluen, the frontal guards giving no hassle. They were the King's Rangers, they thought. They were obviously here for something they found important.

"There it is," said Halt, pointing to the vast acreage. It was huge, Will thought. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between the playing area and a forest if it weren't for the rapidly increasing number of people. From the peripheral area of Gilan's vision, he saw a cloaked figure dismount his horse. He smiled.

"Hey Halt, Looks like you've lost."

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><p>Crowley yawned softly as he entered the entrance tent. He hadn't gotten much sleep, thanks to the documents that kept him up until the crack of dawn. He too had switched cloaks because of the weather, which seemed to increase in temperature as the area increased in numbers. It was almost ten thirty, and nearly three hundred people had already arrived.<p>

"Good morning Ranger," said the receptionist. Crowley glanced at the young face. It was Nick, he knew. He wasn't sure whether Nick still remembered him, though. Playing it safe for now, he returned the casual greeting.

"Good morning."

Nick frowned inwardly. He'd seen this sandy haired man before. Assuming it was Crowley, he continued. "Your team is the one on the right. There are a lot people over there."

"I'd assume your one of them?" Crowley asked. The boy shook his head.

"No," he said. "Halt's team was nearly vacant."

"Halt's team? How could you?" he asked, fixing his expressions into a face of mock disappointment. The boy laughed.

"Look at Halt's team!" he answered, pointing to the area where "Team Halt" assembled, with only about eighty people. The man was awfully friendly, he thought.

Just as Crowley was about to speak, three more Rangers entered the tent. He grinned. "Speaking of the devil, hullo Halt, Will, Gilan" Nick's face brightened at the mention of Halt. As the man removed the cowl of his cloak, Nick had a first glance of the man's formidable features, primarily his eyes. Nick easily found them intimidating as they studied him for a few moments, unwavering in the process. The one beside him looked astonishingly social-looking and open, the taller one the same.

"Hello Crowley," said Halt icily. He then looked at the receptionist. The boy had a confident look to him, starting with gray eyes that smugly met his, not knowing that the seemingly enigmatic teenager was extremely intimidated by him. Crowley carried on.

"Ready to lose?" Nick noticed that Halt's expression stayed motionless; he unsure of what the Ranger might have been feeling. He watched the exchange with unique interest, glancing back and forth at each Ranger as they spoke.

"If losing involves repeating what happened from last year, then yes. I'm more than ready to lose." replied Halt. Crowley laughed, and Nick wondered why. Is this man serious, was his mental question.

"Well then," said Crowley, as he exited the tent through the other side. "Let's just hope you can keep up this year."

Now that Crowley was gone, Halt returned his attention to the receptionist. Nick cleared his throat nervously.

"Good Morning Rangers," he greeted, expecting three stares in return. He was surprised when one of the younger ones replied.

"Good Morning," said Will. Nick grabbed the remaining list of names.

"Roster for the Ranger Halt," he said, although it ended in more of a question. The older Ranger seized the list from Nick. Halt looked over the list.

"Actually, I think it may be time already," exclaimed Nick, leaning on the desk slightly to see if any latecomers had arrived. He grabbed hold of his pack, his two bows in hand, signaled the Rangers.

"Okay, lets go."

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><p>"Can I have everyone's attention?" a staff member asked loudly. There were now about four hundred players waiting, in the nicknamed "Gathering Grounds". Huddled in no particular order, it took a while to quiet the eager players. Still, rules had to be established.<p>

The moderator waited for the noise to gradually die down. There were three others standing on an elevated surface, one of which was Nick. Since he had been a receptionist, he qualified as staff. The four Rangers were present as well. The chatter compressed into mixed whispers, the frequent shout of excitement and anticipation breaking through.

Now almost silent, The moderator began. "Good morning everybody, and welcome to Living Legends." Immediately, cheering began, and the man remembered patience. He again waited for the ruckus to quiet down, and continued on.

"For the fourth year, we once again thank the Rangers for founding this wonderful game, and giving us the opportunity to play. But before we play, there are some rules and regulations, as some returning members may know." He then looked back at the three other staff members. He had expected one to take his place. He then glanced at Nick, who in turn realized that the others were staring at him as well. He shrugged as he walked to where the previous speaker stood, signaling that all attention be switched to him.

Nick hated public speaking. But he had realized that all the four hundred there were only eager, actually caring less about what he had to say. To them, he was just another archer, waiting to get started.

"Yes, there are rules and regulations," he began. "Don't worry though. There aren't that many. Rule number one: No dead man's walking. If we see any of that, you're out."

Will nudged Halt. "What's a dead man's walk?"

"Its when a player pretends they're out, when they're not."

"Oh."

Nick continued on. "When you are hit, yell that you are out and proceed off of the field. If you have any questions, ask me or any other staff you might see." He stopped and checked the list for any more important findings. Seeing none, he further instructed the large group.

"Next! Proceed to your General for further assessment. Field arrangements and starting sides will be announced later. Thank you."

"Team Halt" Gathered on one side of the grounds, "Team Crowley" on the other. For the most part, Halt's team knew their roles: longbows stay back, and crossbows and recurves attack. But still, they needed to be addressed officially; it was a matter of protocol, something that Halt hated with a burning passion.

The first field reserved for play was essentially an extremely large hill, one team starting at the bottom, the other at the crest. To both teams, it was a game more along the lines of attack and defend, the team on the crest having the obvious advantage. All four Rangers needed to know what side they started on, so they could devise a plan. Gilan had went with Crowley, as promised, which could be a problem, thought Halt. They were both masterminds in unseen movement, and would probably eliminate a destructive amount of his team. He needed to start on top; no amount of unseen movement can evade a pair of trained eyes looking down. Seeing Nick helping the lost get situated, Halt called him over.

"Any idea of what side we might be on?" asked Will, who had been wondering the same.

"From the looks of things, probably at the bottom." said the young face, eying the crest on the hill. "They're most likely going to shoot a volley of arrows to take us off the break,". Halt nodded.

"That's what I had thought," he said. Nick looked over at the bearded Ranger with internal surprise. It was the first time he'd done anything but stare menacingly at him.

"All the crossbows need to do is move up to under the volley. It's the longbows that I'm worried about." Will looked over at Halt.

"It all depends on what Crowley and Gilan decide to do," he stated. "Halt, tell me. What are Crowley's tendencies?"

"He's direct for one. But he's also smart. I'd say we play it by air. If Crowley engages in a frontal attack, we look to corner and vice versa." answered Halt, Nick nodding in admiration. Another question formed in Will\'s thoughts.

"What if they, by chance, defend in order to throw us off?" he asked.

"Then we'll stay back as well, and have the more skilled longbows closely monitor. Since they're on top, they'll most likely get arrogant because of anticipation, and come down," replied Nick. Halt agreed. The boy's tactical knowledge was great, he thought.

Nick realized that he hadn't introduced himself. "Oh! Sorry, I had forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Nick," he said, shaking both Will and Halt's hand. They introduced as well.

"Fifteen minutes!" a mutual staff moderator shouted. Another came running over to Nick, informing him on sides. "Team Halt starts here, on the bottom. We start in fifteen minutes, in case you didn't hear.

As the team readied in their designated spot, Nick couldn't help but to notice the wind picking up a bit. He also saw a large cloud in the distance. He decided to ask Halt about it, as he saw the man as insightful.

"Excuse me? Halt?" Halt turned to find Nick, clearly requesting his presence.

"Yes Nick?"

"I couldn't help but to notice: that's an awfully big cloud over there," he continued, pointing to his observation. Halt had seen the same.

"Yes. I noticed that as well."

"You think it'll rain?" Halt shrugged.

"Most likely."

About ten minutes later, Will felt a drop on his hand as he examined his bow for any cracks. He sighed. Oh well, he thought. His day was nearly perfect.

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><p>Thanks for reading. I know the ending might have been a little abrupt, but this chapter is past four thousand words now. I understand if it's hard to follow too. I was sort of in a rush toward the end.<p>

Oh, and I hope Halt's still in character to you guys. He's the easiest one to screw up :)

Feel free to review, and once again, thanks.

-Invent. Animate


	4. Chapter 4

Hello All. First off, I have renamed Commandant's Apprentice to Living Legends, or the prologue of it all. I plan on updating this story a lot more than I'd previously imagined. And i don't want anyone to grow impatient.

**1.**) Thanks for the reviews everybody; I really appreciate them.

**2.**) I'm now looking for a beta reader. I'm not fond of the default system on this site, so if anyone is intersted, send me a PM!

**3.**) Sorry if the updates are sporadic, but i've been very busy and all, joining new baseball team and quitting the other, and things like that. Also, finals are approaching, and I barely have free time.

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><p>Living Legends<p>

Chapter Four

**4.**

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><p>The field in which Opening Charge was played on was a hardship. The land was filled with gorse and brush, the occasional oak tree tall enough for adequate cover. The fields were covered with such plants, the tallest being the glorious evergreen. It was mid afternoon, and the autumn sky was just beginning to show its first outbreaks of orange that would soon consume the evening.<p>

Overall, the weather had not been a worry. Despite the dull grey and heavy clouds, it had only rained for a brief twenty minutes. Now the afternoon air condensed into a wet heat: mugginess. The air was damp, and most active players broke into a dry sweat, the type that could only be solved with a cold wash. The numbers were depleting though; the remaining couldn't let a small setback ruin their task.

Opening Charge had been a bust. Many were shot off the break, the others learning based off of eliminated members' mistakes. The more skilled had sought their own way of staying present, and as the game went on, the competition had veered to that of a more experienced challenge. In fact, the game had gotten so slow and mattering that it found itself depending on even the simplist tactical mistake- One mistake too many for every remaining player, the four Rangers included.

"Hey Crowley" Gilan began. He too was among the small number of 27 to remain in the game; he could sense that all four Rangers were. Now he signaled through fingerless gloved hands to a opponent, quite a distance from he and Crowley's position, which were at two solitary trees behind a more dense area of gorse and bracken. "Do you see him."

Crowley looked in direction of the pointed finger and saw a figure hunched over behind an evergreen, trying to conceal himself. A poor job, the Ranger thought. Obviously the player had not taken into consideration that he was at the bottom of a hill, and that two qualified Rangers were nested at the crest, virtually unseen courtesy of their mottled cloaks. It was a pretentious thought, but nevertheless true, proven by the mutual damage inflicted on both teams.

He raised his bow and nicked an arrow to the string. A methodical process for Rangers, he next mentally calculated the difference, a task that had become painless for him over the years. About fifty meters or so, the sweet spot for a longbow. The man wasn't moving, as if he thought that the Ranger didn't see him. He must have known that he was around, for the player's attention was locked on a lane that appeared to be where the sandy haired Ranger was positioned. With the pending time, Crowley made sure that his shot would be a sure one, and was rewarded by the faint shriek of his opponent, followed by the mandatory cry.

"Out!"

A disgruntled player walked to the spectator portion of the field. Gilan, hearing the signal as well, glanced over at Crowley, who had already nocked another arrow to his longbow in succession to the previous shot.

"Was that him?" the young Ranger asked. Crowley nodded in reply.

"Yes," he answered, a bit harsher then he had intended. He lightened his tone a bit. "Now keep him there."

Gilan knew his message. for the past half hour, he'd been depriving another opponent of any further movement. Unlike most, however, the player carried a strong tactical IQ. At irregular time intervals, the player would jump, peeking his head over the wooden cover to try and spot him. Ever minute or so, he would throw up a shot, to no obvious avail.

Crowley moved up to another area of meager cover. Gilan noted that the Ranger could get awfully dialed in and serious in times like these. It was different from his normal, friendly state of manner. Gilan liked the change of demeanor however. It was reassuring that the comical Ranger wasn't all charades.

"Gilan, try to get a better angle on him" said Crowley, breaking Gilan's musing.

Gilan did what he was told. From where he was, on the roughly five hundred yard field, eliminating this player would be near impossible. The cover he was behind was very protecting, and because of it's positioning, which was past Halt's two hundred and fifty yard line into Crowley's fifty, it signaled speed and agility. And Crowley had already spotted Will, god knows how. Either it was Halt, or a very fast young lad.

He shook his head humorously. Could it've really been Halt?

Nick knew he was pinned. His fellow staff moderator had been shot out, and he had tried to fill in so that he could balance the field, realizing the mistake in doing so. Before, He and another player had doubled the coverage in a back-center position. Presumably, The Ranger had taken out the upper corner, knowing that another someone else would have filled in. It was like the Ranger had eliminated two people with one arrow. Two birds with one stone, if you will. He tried to snap shoot, but was abruptly guided back to cover by an arrow.

The sunset was beginning to become appearant as of now. As the sun slowly began to fade, the lasting rays began to poke into the rows of trees, creating an awful glare. It also illuminated the forest, blowing many players' covers. Nick pressed in wariness against the manmade cover as heard shouts from both teams, signaling elimination.

Around the field, there were multiple statues of wood, each piece's shape and size depending on its location. At the very beginning of the match, the less experienced would crowd into the "bunkers" as they were nicknamed. From there, the Rangers and other players would simply pick them off one by one, until an actual strategic game became. Mixed with the forests natural covers, any remaining person would stay alert for a long period of time, which could become quite daunting and withering on the energy for some.

"Relax, you're going to be there for a while." came a soft voice from behind him. Nick whipped around to see the Ranger Halt, a hearty distance behind him. At first, it was difficult spotting him because of the mottled camoflouge. But Nick could now clearly distinguish the massive longbow, resting in the man's hands. Nick checked the area around the grizzled Ranger. Weird, he thought. He hadn't heard or seen the man slide in to where he was. Even odder, he was fixed in a position to where he could pick off anyone trying to eliminate Nick, as if Halt knew that he'd been in trouble.

Halt was smart. He knew that Nick had been in a fix, and that he worried about a possible attack from the opposite corner, possibly the middle. Knowing that, he stealthily moved an area right behind the young man, at a smaller bunker some twenty feet back with only crouching room. Instead of lying prone on the earth, which would induce fatigue, Halt stood on all fours, then straightened a leg so that the lifted one would allow for quick movement if neccesary. Despite the low cover, It was useful as he saw the relaxed body language in Nick.

"How many left are there?" asked a now relieved Nick. Halt answered , not taking his eyes of the area in which they were patrolling. He thought that he had saw something, and decided to keep his eye on the spot, including the areas where a player might have went from there. In this course, which Halt had played on before, had it's fair share of twists and turns. He could only hope that the receptionist knew as well.

"Too many," said the bearded Ranger, lying through his teeth. In honesty, there were only about fouteen on Crowley's side, out of the twenty seven that remained. Halt was unsure himself , although he would never dare let it show.

Now knowing that Nick was secure, so long as he complemented Halt's antics, the old Ranger wondered about the other, Will. He had been sent to the other side with other players, and a moderator as well. But like Nick, when the glare arrived, he too had heard mixed shouting. Could one of those calls possibly be Will? If he had been eliminated, the other team could easily flank him, and take the game. He thought for a second, looked at surrounding players leisurely walking through the course, and had a sudden changed approach.

Oh Well, he thought, letting a sigh escape. It's just a game.

It was far into the afternoon by now. The sun hazed over the visible horizon, painting the sky with orange. It was a good thing that his team was behind it, Will thought. Once the sun actually began to set, Crowley's group would be faced with a terrible glare, which would be his chance to make a move, a thing that this game desperately needed.

Will had been nicely covered by various brush for some time now. He had eliminated quite a few players, surprised that no one spotted his position and informed the others. "It's all in the cloak," Halt had told him once, in his early apprenticeship with the taciturn Ranger.

Will rested his thighs by kneeling on a knee, exiting a prolonged crouch. He was in a risky spot, hiding in tall grass on Crowley's 250 yard span of the field. He hadn't seen anyone for twenty minutes, and he was beginning to grow anxious. Countless times did he find himself looking over his shoulder, even though he knew there would be no one there.

He shrugged. It was game, but it sure felt real. The days in Seacliff dragged on in an impeccably boring manner. He would wake at time normal for Rangers, and do various tasks regarding the better of the fief. Will frowned in disgust as he recalled the laziness and the lackadaisical manner of the higher authority. Not just the authority, he realized. Even the adolescence, the future of it all, seemed to dawdle methodically during the typical day. The battleschool, for one, was nothing like Araluen and Redmont's .

Once again, Will caught himself and his rapid thoughts. Blinking twice, he regained his primary focus. He did a quick scanning of the area. To his left held the spectator area, where eliminated players would analyze why they had been shot out, watching the active players in envy. To his right lay the rest of the relevant course. Somewhere, he knew, would be where Halt played, as well as Nick, who he'd met earlier.

"Out!"

A nearby player walked off the field, muttering a couple suggestive words as he did so.

Will sighed. That had been his only cover from behind. "Damn," he said to himself. Now he could only hope another teammate had heard him, and would decide to fill in for the lost member. He contemplated yelling for a substitute, but decided otherwise. He still had cover, as well as the element of surprise. It was a second pair of eyes that he'd lost: the player who had just been eliminated would often update Will on movement in the watched area.

He devised a plan. The reason Will had moved up in the first place was to penetrate enemy lines, given that he had backup. It was gone now, obviously, and Will was now in "No Man's Land," or stationing too far ahead without proper cover. He looked back once more. No one.

He decided that he'd wait. In the next five- no, ten minutes, he would either move back to another well greened area, or stay put, depending on whether help came. That way, if no one filled in, he could be in a more beneficial area, giving him a view of not only ahead of him, but more towards the right side as well.

"Out!"

Yelled a player, this time on the oppos ite team. Will gasped; the man was five crucial feet feet away from Will. If the man had taken a few more steps, he would have accidentally found Will, and the entire left side of the playing field would have been exposed. His breathing became tough and ragged.

The ten minutes could come seven early, he thought as he carfully scooted back to an area forty feet behind him, remembering to move slow as he did so. After he had reached his checkpoint, he relaxed as he now had a unique view of the course, including three opponents "hiding" behind evergreens. Luckily for him, they were equally distanced, putting a halt to any thought regarding the need for a rushed shot.

He looked to the area to the right of the the further most player. He couldn't see very well, but looked to him as if there were a cluster of players to the far right. He needed to advance up the field, to gain a better view of what was going on elsewhere. Normally, an simple archer would go for the first opponent he saw. But if there had been one thing that Halt had tought Will, it was to rationalize. Of course, the grizzled Ranger had taught him other necessities as well, all integrated into his atypical apprenticeship.

If he shot the player closest to him, there held a chance that he might alert the other players through his yelling, likewise for the middle man. However, if he shot the man furthest to his right, who was a long distance away from the rest, the others might think it that it came from the cluster of men on the right side. Then, he could take out the man closest to him, and the middle would feel isolated, and most likely make a costly decision.

He shot for his first target, and his rationalization proved logical as the man walked off, without a care from the other two. Next he eliminated the left man, instantly alerting the one in the middle; his last target. The man started shooting wildly, actually hitting one of Will's teammates.

"Lucky Shot!" yelled a player, intending to insult the other man.

Will eliminated the last target, and generously moved up, even past his original spot of gorse. He spotted a large bunker and moved to behind it, and analyzed his new situation. He still needed To watch for Gilan or Crowley; they were significantly better than the simple yeomen that played.

In doing so, he realized that the majority of Crowley's team was on the opposite side, and that he had just gained the entire left side. He looked down. Finally, players began to spread out. None of them though, were either Halt or Nick. They were most likely on the right side, where the other ten or so opponents stationed.

If only he could relay the message to Halt and the others. They were most likely at the other far end of the boundaries, taking on the heat directly. Will hoped Halt knew about the incoming glare, and relaxed slightly as knew that he probably would. He was Halt, after all. It was only recently where Will saw that the man wasnt as infallible had he'd imagined. As far as him, he would wait, and attempt to pick off any boisterous players wanting to take his team from the left.

A sound!

Will rose his bow. He immediately nocked an arrow to the string, and began to look around. He let his senses find any unusual movements in the forest, and was rewarded by crackling of a fallen branch.

The sudden anxious feeling came back again. Instantly, he felt his heartbeat increase as he looked back for cover. Either no one saw him or didnt care about his recent move.

Now that he'd thought about it, the sound of the branch cracking was near undetectable, but abnormal nevertheless, proven by one of Halt's many tutorials. "After the first instance," Will remembered. " Time their footsteps, and you'll be able to tell their further movements."

However, this person seemed to move irregularly, probably taking cover behind a natural occurrence. In which case, Will would be able to see the man, unless-

The feeling was at its prime now. Whoever this person was, he had obviously received training far more advanced than that of a yeomans. A quiet stalking, who ever the man was, he exuded silence, giving Will only one logical choice to who he might be.

A Ranger.

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><p>Thanks!<p>

Excuse any errors as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Living Legends

Hey guys, a couple things

1.) Thanks for all the reviews. But I've noticed that a lot of people are favorite/alerting my story, but not reviewing. I'm not a stickler, so any kind of review would be accepted.

2.) Frequent updates will come around April. That is when I get a computer of my own.

3.) This chapter is sort of a rushed one. I hope it dosent seem that way. Having said that, please disregard any errors

Thanks for reading!

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><p>Living Legends<p>

**5.**

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><p>Halt retracted what he had said earlier. This game mattered. A horrible trait of Halt's: he hated to lose. Worse, he hated losing to someone who'd haunt him forever about it. Even if Halt were to win the whole event, if Crowley won Opening Charge, it would be the death of Halt's nerves.<p>

The Ranger and receptionist were still in the same situation, this time with a little more insight on the game and it's happenings. Halt regarded the boy as experienced, for two reasons: The game was now full of them, and the kid seemed to have a correct flow to his antics. Every now and then, he would put a lone hand onto the board, and use it as balance for when he poked his head out for another update, snapping back in time before the whizz of a chasing arrow.

Nick had been in his own series of thoughts and observations, his a tad more relevant. There were more than five opponents ahead of him, possibly nine or ten. He was getting awfully impatient, being cooped up in the same spot. Slowly, he felt as if the time to move was approaching. He eyed the landscape to the left and right, similar to what Will had done. To his left, there were patches of evergreens, a small crouching bunker in the distance. His right held the second spectating area of the field, the numbers increasing simultaneously with his anxiety.

Halt was still behind him, he knew, and he had actually eliminated a few players that Nick hadn't noticed. But In order to keep the game rolling, Nick would need to move. He looked below Halt. There were a couple players at the very bottom of the hill, staying alive because of their passive efforts. If he were to move to the crouching bunker, Halt would have to move up. In turn, someone would have to fill in for the Ranger. He decided to share his proposal with his backup, assuming that Halt had thought likewise.

"Do you think I can make it?" he asked, pointing to the bunker as a just-in-case maneuver. Halt looked at the wooden plank. He had known of its existence earlier, and had pushed its importance to the back of his mind until now. Suddenly Halt realized what the kid was trying to do: create a potential weak spot in enemy lines. It was worth a shot, he thought, not realizing the underlying pun in the statement. He wasn't sure of the remaining time, and decided to play like it was scarce. "Expect the best, but prepare for the worst," he would say. "That way, if it happens, you're not disappointed."

"Take a good look up there before you do," he answered. Nick looked again at the upward area. To his surprise, two of the opponents he'd been keeping an eye on were no longer there. Little did he know, there had also been a third. Still, caution prevailed; he looked and saw nothing other than the same interfering opponents from up the field as well as an area abundant in high grass.

"Watch for the bracken, Gilan might be around" said the old Ranger, the last half turning into a barely audible mutter. He eyed the region sparingly. No doubt, Gilan would most likely be behind the cover, waiting for the appropriate time to strike, which made him think: If Gilan in fact is behind the shrubbery, where would Crowley be? Putting the thought off for a bit, he further instructed Nick, now waiting attentively for him.

"Once you're about halfway there, disrupt your motion." Nick looked at Halt, obvious in question. The Ranger sensed the confusion and took a different approach.

"I'm talking about breaking your steady rhythm. Hesitate when you're halfway there, then keep running." Halt looked at the boy, and saw enlightenment in his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was due to the day's challenges, but Nick had an almost sleepy look to him, the way his eyes were formed.

Nick nodded. He understood what the bearded Ranger was trying to do. Because the archers will be shooting ahead of him, so that he could run into the arrow's path, he would hesitate, throwing the eager players off guard. It seemed excellent, well thought on the Ranger's behalf. But somewhere in his mind, he knew that his efforts would not go far enough as to trick two significant people on the opposite team.

Which reminded him: When should he carry through with this? The plan sounded fantastic and all, but it seemed like it would require a very subtle timing. If he went too early, he might get caught in the opposing team's anticipation- a complete derailment inevitable at that point. If he went too late, he might trip trying to make up for lost time, the arrows doing so instead. He paused, playing out each outcome in his mind, trying to find any loopholes in the process. He then looked over his shoulder at the Ranger, who peered back in return.

"Sir?" he asked. Halt frowned inwardly at the etiquette. Ironic, he thought. A place like this was no place for such eloquence. But then again, it was general respect. He considered suggesting to the boy to call him by his name, but dismissed the thought. Nick continued.

"When should I go?"

Halt had expected the question; it would've been daft if Nick hadn't asked. His bunker put him in a position where he could see the general vicinity, not the extended vision that Halt had. Now that he thought about it, he too would have to move, most likely to Nick's bunker. He knew that if Nick made the move to the crouching bunker, the boy would have a clear shot at Halt's ahead. That would take a great amount of skill and speed, however. That's where Halt's new position came in.

If Nick were to make a clean transition, the nearest opponents would become nervous, and start throwing up irrational shots; the shots that emptied a quiver in a heartbeat. All Nick would have to do is shoot the players who didn't have their attention on him, Halt doing the same for Nick's pursuers. That way, when the right side is cleared, the passive players downhill could move up with a new confidence and finish the side. Halt could then use this to move leftward to where Will played.

Nick now looked quizzically at Halt. The Ranger let a small hum of thought to let Nick know that he was still considering his question. Realizing it, Nick turned back to face the cover, patrolling the upper region of the field once more.

There was a problem though, with his plan: Gilan, or whoever Ranger was near. He knew that one had been on the left to balance out the field; Halt and Nick wouldn't have gotten thus far if there had been two keeping watch on the side. Knowing that, there would most likely be a Ranger on the left side, to counter Will. Then, if that were the case, the second one would be in the direct middle, essentially patrolling both sides. It was okay though, as Halt can easily eliminate the Ranger in the middle spot as he moved up. If not immediately, he could do it once Nick eliminated his eager enemies.

He had to think, however: This idea was as depending on Nick's execution as it was on his. The enemies weren't fully protected in cover, some clearly showing themselves as they knew their two targets wouldn't dare come out. Despite this, they were still far; Unlike Halt's massive longbow, Nick carried a simple crossbow, although it looked a little oversized. Another pendency: the kid's accuracy. If he was able to reach the opponents, would he be able to hit them? Seeing no further advancements in his musing unless he did so, he asked the young crossbowmen.

"Will you be able to reach them?" he asked. Nick turned. He snuck a peek at the players, the furthest one a solid fifty meters out. He knew his equipment for the most part, but still needed to make sure he could make an impact. Instead of using his own, his picked up a slightly larger arrow that had been on the ground since it was shot at him, a while ago. The arrow was a little heavier at the tip, and Nick knew that it would strain against his whipcord, testing the crossbow if he could get somewhat close with an arrow made for a longbow, his own arrows would be a breeze. Halt watched in interest as Nick nocked the arrow, and fired.

The intended opponent witnessed a projectile smashing into the evergreen beside him; his cover. The man smiled at the irony.

Nick ducked back before the retaliation of about five, one arrow nearly connecting. At the same time, a lone arrow smashed into the frontal side of the bunker, nearly hitting him. He flinched back to the middle, breaking into a crouch.

"Yes, I can," he answered, catching his breath after a close call. Halt reveled in his correctness. Now he knew that a Ranger was behind the brush; he'd been watching it since Nick made the move. He also knew that it was Gilan. From years of cooperation, he knew that Crowley had insane accuracy. Hell, it was even slightly better than Halt's. Only slightly, he thought. The Ranger knew that Crowley could virtually hit any shot as much as the sandy haired man himself did, once again proved by earlier. Halt rubbed his shoulder, smiling at what had been the case. A while ago, Halt had been playing a back bunker when an arrow skimmed his left shoulder. Instead of calling out, like he should have done, he kept playing. He knew it was Crowley; not even Gilan could make such a lengthy shot. No one else around him noticed, but he had a vague feeling that Crowley did. He shrugged off the flashback; it was over, and Halt might not be so lucky the next time. He pressed on with the interrogation.

"Are you accurate?"

Nick frowned, although still facing the board. He could say that accuracy didn't matter, so long as he hits the shot. but he'd be lying and speaking rhetorically. He could answer with arrogance, but the Ranger seemed like he wouldn't tolerate the nonsense. Other players, maybe. But not Halt. He decided to give him a self compromised answer.

"Pretty accurate." he said, waiting for the Ranger's answer.

Halt nodded. It was a test. From past rendezvous, Halt knew that actions definitely spoke louder than words. He knew that the question could be deemed rhetorical, and Nick not answering was probable. He answered, thankfully. But his delivered tone: it signaled uncertainty. The boy had obviously considered a variety of answers, and thought about telling the Ranger what he wanted to hear. He didn't though, resembling confidence. As far as the plan: he would just have to play it air.

"Go on my word," was Halts summarized reply. No use in being specific.

He looked around. The field was once again at a standstill, and some spectators were beginning to leave as they found no good reason in staying. He could go now, Halt supposed. Besides, the opposing team was getting lazy, he knew. After the attempted ambush on Nick, they doubted that he would make another move. He could use the null time, he realized. Catching the team off guard would give the kid a crucial number of seconds.

Nick prepared for the takeoff. Normally, his bow would've still been up. But while covered by the bunker, no shot could touch the adolescent. He waited. By now, Halt was standing on his knees. The second he made the gesture, followed by the command, he would be off. A common wave of negativity piled over him. He shrugged it off however; the worst that could happen was his elimination.

Or an injury.

Halt mentally counted down in his head. Three, two, one- he rapidly scanned the area for any liabilities. Seeing none, he ushered the young man.

"Go!"

Nick accelerated from his readied position. As predicted, there was a slight delay in reaction, proven by the arrows whizzing behind his back. His adrenaline pumped rhythmically with his heartbeat. He needed to keep his eyes on his task; if he looked up, he would slow himself down.

Halt watched the boy go. His jump was a tad slow, but he was swift. Although, Halt noted, he seemed a little heavy footed. He wasn't completely uncoordinated, but appeared as if he hadn't yet grown into his body. Perhaps he recently spurred in height; it was Gilan's dilemma upon his apprenticeship. Once Gilan grew, Halt remembered, he was a natural.

As the Ranger had instructed, once Nick was about halfway to his destination, he pivoted, changing his speed of motion. After, instinct and pure adrenaline told him to accelerate to make up for lost time. The cover wasn't as distant now, and He considered sliding into the cover. It had rained earlier, and the ground had become somewhat damp. He started to discard the thought, as long as he kept his arms pumping; running in a fluent motion.

The arrows were catching up, and fast. Not knowing how much longer until one connected, Nick slid head first into the cover. But, with a considerable amount of speed, he had began his slide too close to the bunker. It wasn't a complete overshot, however. Only was his left side briefly exposed. But before scurrying to the complete cover of the bunker, and arrow, seemingly arriving from nowhere, smashed into the ground. In doing so, it skimmed where Nick's hand was placed on his crossbow, creating a truly unusual sound.

Now he had to choose. The arrow had hit him, but not by much. He wasn't sure if anyone heard the unusual sound, and would play it off like nothing happened. Yes! It seemed great, for a particular reason: if the Ranger had made the shot, he wouldn't want his cover to be blown. And to do that, he wouldn't point out Nick's cheap move. Now behind the cover, Nick sat on his knees. But before he got any further, he felt a tug on his shirt. An angry, irritated yank that Nick had felt too many times before when he was younger.

"I saw that, buddy," angrily said a referee. "Get out." he yanked the kid kneeling before him up to his feet.

Nick sighed. He had almost made it. His night now over, anger consumed him as well. He thought about sitting at the spectator area, and how he would watch the other players play, indirectly taunting him.

"Rubbish," he said as he walked past the referee, who looked irritatingly in reply. Any retaliating comment would be in vain though. The referee only knew that the young man was basked in frustration, and that he would probably cool off soon, maybe in the spectator area. Whatever the case, the kid's night was now over.

The middle aged referee shrugged. It was such a bittersweet job


	6. Chapter 6

Hey guys, new chapter here. Some of it is off the top of my head.

Oh and a new rule:** No review, no updates. **Sorry, but for the last couple chapters, I've gotten only 1 review, compared to seven favorites/follows. I would really love to see what people thought about my story in actual words.

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><p>Living Legends<p>

**6.**

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><p>A lone figure stalked quietly within the playing fields of Opening Charge, a wolfish smile slapped across his face. His target knew he was there; at least Crowley hoped he did. He may excel in unseen movement, but even he can be unintentionally loud sometimes, referring to the twig he had snapped a little earlier.<p>

If there had been one virtue about the questionable playing field, it would be the very few tree trunks that dotted the area. The thick remnants of an oak tree provided excellent cover for a player, only if one conceded the time to look. In Crowley's preference, he liked the natural occurrence better than the manmade bunkers included. The trunk, however, came with a cost, thought the witty Ranger as he stuck his chest out, stretching his back to ease the tightness. He had been in a kneeling position for over fifteen minutes.

Crowley looked behind himself before eyeing his target once more: Will. He wasn't terribly far from Halt's now former apprentice, not farther than forty yards. He had to note that his positioning was spectacular: a "bunker " nested underneath some brush. Will's whole left side resembled the area, now that he realized it. Crowley had to be careful though; one uncoordinated move and the relevant area is disrupted, giving even the worst eyesight an idea of where he might be. Besides, Will was using a common tactic to spot Crowley: using the peripherals of his vision. The trick wasn't much to learn, yet contradicting with the effectiveness and dependence every Ranger associated with it.

Using his vision now, he spotted nothing other than more high grass. He needed to make his move fast, as time was now beginning to run out. It was late, and the day was stuck between the appearance of night and sunset, coating the sky with a fading blue haze. He was careful not to flunk his plan as he started for the indented area, staying close to the natural floor. The wind began to pick up, causing the wild brush to rock ever so gently. Crowley used the timing of the wind to gain ground on his prey while stopping simultaneously with the draft. He had learned years before that persistence overruled speed in almost every situation, halting his concentrated mind to think of an instance where it didn't apply. Sensing none, he continued with his objective.

Once again, he moved with the speed of the wind; he did so until he reached his checkpoint. He could easily go for a shot at the young Ranger, but how he played the bunker offered only a small window of arrow connection. Plus, the wind now appeared to hold a grudge against the sandy haired commandant, beginning to pick up its unsteady pace. But if Crowley were to eliminate this liability, he would have to adapt to the sudden changes.

He lay closer to the ground, making sure to stay in the middle of the tall gorse. If the wind were to blow again, which he knew it would based on their inanimate relationship, he would want for the front area of the grass to flow as it normally would, a small portion of the back included. If he pressed too far, everywhere else would take its usual course, except for the cloaked figure contrasting the nature.

There was another reason for his decision. Will now snapped his attention to the brush where Crowley lay. It wasn't all a hazard, as a typical player would go for the most mobile cover; remaining stationary could be awfully tough in a tense situation. Knowing that, Will also had a generous amount of arrows left. There was a chance that the Ranger may shoot an arrow or two into the area to see if he could stir an an uprising, a reaction at the least.

And the chances of shooting for the middle of the brush were greater than aiming for the bottom.

Having said that, Crowley would also have to worry about fatigue. Like Halt, he wasn't getting much younger, and his body was evidence. He began to notice a while ago that he wasn't as swift and snappy like he had been in his younger days. In a silent way, he had already gone through an indirect mid-life crisis. He was still in tremendous shape however; a Ranger needed to be in such physical condition. And with age, comes experience.

A stand breaking arrow pierced through the evening sky, ending behind Crowley with a clean thud. The commandant refused to move. Any sudden movement would give away his position. And he'd come this far, and being eliminated for a rookie mistake would be inexcusable.

He scanned the area once again, his eyes set on a closer position. He mentally graphed a view; one that he would have if he were to move, and concluded that he could get a clear shot at the young Ranger from there. Crowley smiled. It was almost unfair.

"Out!"

He paused. The voice came from a relative spot where Gilan would be. But the voice could've been anyone, and the chances of it being Gilan was very low. It wasn't worth checking, Crowley thought as he prepared for takeoff.

The wind was beginning to whip now. Based on Will's location, which was based by heavy brush, the sharp breeze would soon obscure his vision. It wouldn't be much, but Crowley didn't need too much time. His speed still outranked many in terms of acceleration.

But he noticed something about the breeze. It would slowly pick up, then hiss as if it had been agitated, then settle. The dead time between each fit of wind was radical; too much so in order to accurately time it. Oh well, he thought, which had been the general saying of the game so far.

He waited. The wind began to pick up as predicted. Once the plant life started to flow wildly, he jumped from his position.

Will saw the person move, but the high grass whipped viciously before he could nock an arrow to his whipcord. He needed to eliminate whoever it was; either Gilan or Crowley, for the spot that the Ranger seemed to be headed for was directly across from him. It would completely disengage Will's bunker. He surprisingly got a shot off, but it didn't matter as no further movement ensued. The field was as windy and quiet as it had been; something that really got under Will's skin. He knew someone was there, waiting for the perfect shot. He couldn't crack though; not now.

Crowley remained close to the ground. He was so close to eliminating a big spot in this now four hour game; the anticipation was nearly killing him. He could only imagine the look that would become on the young Ranger's face upon elimination: sheer bewilderment. Everyone knew of Ranger's talent. But only a few knew about Crowley's exquisite skill. It was something that Crowley had been desperate to prove, given his naturally competitive nature.

He was now closer to Will, but he needed to ensure that whenever he shot, the arrow wouldn't miss. No matter how hard his mind told him to, he couldn't stand straight up. To trained eyes, the sudden movement would be unmistakable. Although harder to understand why, moving too slowly would work the same way. He needed to remain swift and unseen while staying on top of his target at all times.

But he also knew that after a while, Will's mind would become exasperated with the constant concentration, and that he would begin to tire. It was something that no amount of subtle training could fix; the mind has its breaking point.

All in all, taking this opponent out would have to be a pick-and-choose type of deal. Either way would work, he knew, but as Will's, Crowley's patience was starting to dwindle. Fatigue was closing in quickly, and in a little while he would begin to tire as well. And it would be faster than Will, since Crowley isn't what most would describe as young. He began to rise, but not too quickly. At this point, he needed Will to catch a glimpse of him, at least. It was for this reason why he spotted a nearby tree, and commenced a slower sprint toward it.

Will had seen him. It was Crowley, he now knew. It couldn't have been Gilan, for he was more direct with his stalking, like Halt. It was Crowley who preferred the "prancing" around his enemies, as Halt had put it. He would indirectly give his foes the notion that he was there; that someone was hidden, waiting for their time to strike. He was now behind a tree, preparing an arrow; Will had done the same. The two would begin to snap shoot, but from a longer than usual distance.

The first arrow from Crowley was a miss; Will had dove into some nearby brush in the nick of time. Now he shot, the same results ensuing. Crowley noted that the arrow was extremely close to him, and that he would have to give the young Ranger a few props on the initiating shot. He realized that Will had true talent, and that the chances of elimination for the both of them were equal. Since Will had dove into some brush off to the side, Crowley used the move to proceed even closer to his target.

It would be the most significant mistake of the game, as Crowley saw something that immediately made his back side vulnerable: a disappointed Gilan walking slowly off of the field, shaking his head in disbelief.

Halt rushed from his cover to find his former apprentice in trouble. He could see Crowley gaining the edge. Strange, he thought. Gilan had yelled his elimination pretty loudly, as if he had wanted Crowley, who must've been away now that he realized it, to hear. It wasn't like him to simply take chances, unless a bigger goal seemed closer. That part of it was over now, and he needed this elimination to take opening charge. If Crowley was eliminated, without taking Will with him, the two could sweep the rest of field, eliminating any others while completing a lap around the lengthy field. He nocked an arrow to the whipcord.

Crowley realized his mistake just as the arrow hit his back with a satisfied thud. He had become so focused on Will, that he forgot to take into consideration that the person who had yelled his elimination might've actually been Gilan. Too late now, he figured.

"Out!" he yelled, making sure that the nearest moderator heard him. He then regarded Halt, who had moved up since Crowley had been shot out. He smiled.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he laughed. A satisfied smile came over Halt's face as he replied.

"A Ranger always has eyes in the back of his head," he recited a common saying for Rangers. It was a part of the "watch your six" series of lectures about expanded vision that every apprentice was taught. Crowley had lost the game on a rookie mistake, Halt further implied.

Crowley chuckled as the followed Gilan's direction, toward the spectating grounds He then watched as his fellow two Rangers disappeared into the gorse to flank the remainder of Crowley's team, putting an unexpected end to Opening Charge.

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><p><strong>Thanks!<strong>

**-Invent.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE!**

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><p>Hey all. This is obivously a shorter chapter, but for a reason. I contemplated just uploading this as an authors note, but then realized that that would be very misleading. So, rather than writing through my writers block with a possibility of failing completely, I'll upload this: an author's note, as well as a shorter chapter.<p>

Well, I have writer's block right about now. It's not anything major, but I do have other things that require more of my focus. For instance, I just got called up to Varsity baseball at my highschool, and I'm only a freshman. Being on Varsity means that I will have to leave on many out-of-town trips. I still have to manage grades into all of this, which being called up came at the perfect timing since I have a couple essays due in a couple weeks. Furthermore, I am saying that I will take a small break just to manage things. I will most likely update my next chapter on** 4/17**, otherwise known as my birthday. I promise, once I get a computer of my own, things will get a lot easier, and I finally start updating faster, kind of like Tejana does (because we all know that it's truly awesome). But until then, I leave you with this short chapter that hopefully goes down the route of an actual story rather than action/suspense.

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice. I do own Nick, as well as any other OCs.

Excuse any grammatical or spelling errors.

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><p>Commandant's Apprentice<p>

**7.**

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><p>An apartment door in the east wing of Castle Araluen found itself being gently rapped on in the earlier hours of the morning. The inhabitants in an around could become wary of the visitors earliness, but most realized that some began their service at this time, particularly caterers and a few other professions. The labor was often lengthy, but the thought of working for King Duncan filled almost every heart with honor and reverence; metaphorically fueling their hard work.<p>

The rapping came again, this time a little harder. Almost immediately, a particularly young figure entered the door- needless to say, he was more than tired.

"Will you stop banging on the door? You might as well wake up the whole damn castle while you're at it," quietly raged Nick.

"Whoa, calm down," replied Nick's friend Skinner. Nick had known his equally tall and athletic friend since the earliest youth, and the two were an unbreakable duo.

Nick settled down. "Sorry," he began. "Not much of a morning person. Come in."

Skinner fixed his expression into one of mock bewilderment. "Really? I would've never guessed! Tell me more about your hatred of mornings!"

"Shut up," replied Nick, laughing softly as he did so. Skinner had always been the best at entertaining. It was a paradox, because he was also one of the smartest among the young population.

The rooms in Castle Araluen were simple but elegant. Upon entering, there was a main room, presumably with furniture, that would later branch off into individual bedrooms. Also, there were sizable windows that ran horizontally across one wall, giving a view of well around the surrounding castle and fief. Skinner proceeded to look out one of the windows; the sight never got old.

Nick gestured toward a small table located in the main room of the apartment. The two sat in order to double check their supplies for the day. Today was day two of Living Legends; the epic sequel of Opening Charge, and quite frankly the longest of matches.

Skinner frowned at the sight of Nick's packed bag. Both of his bows, his recurve and his longbow, we're unstrung.

"You're bows are unstrung," he exclaimed, very blatantly.

"Thank you Captain Obvious" Nick replied, while rummaging through his pack for a specific item. Skinner laughed.

"Why aren't they? I had meant to say."

Nick regarded his brown haired companion. "Because, I want to string them when I get there. I'll most likely ask Crowley to do it."

"The Ranger?" Skinner asked, his eyes now set on examining his own recurve bow for any nicks or scratches.

"No Skinner. The butcher- yes the Ranger!"

"Well, _sorry_."

Nick decided it was best to change the subject. "So," he began. "How did you get eliminated yesterday?" Skinner grinned.

"Your Ranger friend took me out; the bearded one, at the very end of the game." Nick nodded his head.

"Same. A Ranger took me out as well. Gilan was his name?

"Beats me," Skinner concluded. "They're all the same. Mystical, if you ask me."

Whatever the secret was, it could wait as Nick's stomach was growling with a growing intensity. But before he opened his mouth to reply once again, a readied Lady Kaitlyn exited the midst of her bedroom.

"Oh, hullo Skinner," she began. "Is Nick giving you a hard time?"

Skinner lied. "I'm hanging in there, my lady." Nick scowled at his friend. Kaitlyn simply laughed.

Where are you going, mom?" Nick asked.

"A meeting. The details are confidential. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you." She headed for the door. "Try to stay out of trouble you two. And Nick?"

"Yes?"

"Don't disrespect another person like you did at the fields yesterday." She departed with those words.

Nick immediately looked to his friend, who in turn raised his hands in innocence.

"Wasn't me, I swear." Nick digressed. It wasn't worth feuding over.

"Whatever. Let's go."

"So, what can I help you with?" Crowley asked.

When Skinner and Nick required his presence, Crowley insisted that they and he take their morning meal back to his headquarters: a spacious apartment in the castle's west wing. Upon entering, Nick felt a strange feeling of familiarity, as well as a tiny twinge of nostalgia. He'd been here a couple times before, to run errands for the Ranger. His domain was undoubtedly cozy, and the wide window that was slightly open brought freshness to the room.

Skinner had taken off a while earlier, as receptionist for the day. Given the time that some arrive, Nick had suggested that he be there early. Now he and Crowley were sitting peacefully, still enjoying their delicious platter of bacon, eggs, and other breakfast delights.

"My bows," began Nick. "I was hoping you could restring them for me.

Crowley frowned. "Is there anything wrong?"

"There shouldn't be. At least not with my longbow" began Nick. "Although my recerve hit the ground awkwardly when I slid."

"Oh yes, I saw that," Crowley said, to Nicks instant curiosity.

"You did?"

"Sure did. It looked to me as if you may have bent the frame. I'll take a look once we're all finished."

"Okay; Thanks."

Crowley smiled encouragingly at his young visitor. "No problem."

Nick's eyes scanned the room and revisited something that he'd seen earlier: a table filled of what seemed like reports and documents, stacked quite high. He also noticed that Crowley had been reading once; he seemed deeply in to it as well. Deciding that there was nothing else to talk about, he decided to further inquiry the Ranger.

"I'm sorry, but have you read all of those?" Crowley looked up from his report. It was a common discovery for anyone first entering his room. The funny part came next.

"Those are the reports I haven't read." Nick's facial expression showed one of amazement.

"That must be why everybody calls you a hermit," he said, a little laughter entailing. Crowley chuckled.

"I guess so," Crowley chuckled. Crowley had the notion that he was renowned for being cooped up indoors all day. But now he had heard it confirmed. Oh well, he thought. The job still needed to be done. Laying his document on the table, he stood up and assessed the boy sitting before him.

"Now," he started. "Let's go see those bows of yours."

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><p><strong>Thanks!<strong>

**-Invent.**


	8. Chapter 8

Hey all.

**1.) **Well, I had tried doing this from my phone, and failed horribly. So, I am secretly (shh, dont tell) using my brother's computer. hehe, sneaky me. Anyway, things got a bit screwy, like me taking off chapter eight after someone already reivewed. So if anything looks weird, you know why!

**2.) **Remember guys **No review, no update. **I have been getting an increased amount of views, so that's good

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><p>Commandant's Apprentice<p>

**8.**

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><p>"Ahh. Here's the problem."<p>

"What is it?" Nick examined the recurve bow carefully. Still, he could not find anything seemingly abnormal.

"There's a crack in the frame," said Crowley, meticulously bending the bow, showing what seemed to be a clear split that ran down the length.

Nick frowned. He'd known there was something wrong, as all pieces of wood tended to have a thicker, irregular sound when cracked, opposed to a thin, hollow clack of normal. What triggered his interest, though, was how he never noticed the now blatant discovery.

As he took the bow from the Ranger, he realized that the damage was beyond repair. It had not been split in two, but a deep cut in the main frame restricted any use for a whipcord. It had also been chipped and scratched, but those were the least of his fiasco.

There was no sense in dwelling over it, he knew. Besides, he could finally use his backup: a longbow; that he seldom used.

"It's repairable," expressed the Ranger. "But not in the immediate way." He stood from his armchair. "Just give me a couple days or so."

Nick flowed with gratitude and reverence for the Ranger. Bows weren't exactly cheap; the quality ones, at least. And he knew that Crowley certainly did not have to do this for him.

"Thank you so much!" he pithily replied. Crowley nodded in acceptance, and moved to close the window by his office space. Feeling a small blast of upcoming humidity, he knew that today was going to be another hot day. It wouldn't be nearly as humid and muggy as yesterday. Today promised hot weather, but with an eventual breeze.

"I have an extra at my cabin, but we'd have to hurry though; I had planned to start the game a little earlier today." he closed the shutters and evened out the curtains. The room became a few shades darker, perfectly suiting the morning. He then turned to Nick and gave a friendly smile. "So things don't end like yesterday."

Nick couldn't help but to smile; the Ranger seemed to bring forth a generous demeanor. Almost everyone around the castle knew that Crowley was almost as busy as the King himself. Still, Nick noticed that when the Ranger was around, he emitted a positive and friendly aura that everyone enjoyed. If not everyone, Nick enjoyed it at least.

"I can use my longbow," he said, referring to the like-new bow that lay across the Ranger's desk. Crowley raised his eyebrows and inquired the youth.

"I refuse to believe that you can draw that thing back full weight," he jokingly chastised. He headed for the door, Nick following behind, laughing.

"You'll see today, once I eliminate you," he said.

Now out the apartment, Crowley turned to the teenager pulling his leg. The surprised and shocked expression returned.

"My god! The confidence coming from this boy!" he joked, while Nick continued laughing.

They walked on, Crowley informing him periodically about today's events. Of course, the occasional friendly competition ensued, as Nick began to settle in nicely with the Ranger. Although he knew more about him than most, there were still some rumors about the Ranger, ones created by bored kids like him that needed to be confirmed. Not only were they untrue, they were irrational now that he had the ability to confirm it himself.

Along the descend, they came across many castle inhabitants, each looking with a unique interest at the Ranger and his assumed accomplice. Crowley sensed what they were thinking. Again, he revisited when Nick referred to him as a hermit, speaking on Castle Araluen's behalf. Had it really gotten that bad? Maybe he was more in need of an apprentice than he had originally thought.

Whatever the case may be, Nick was certainly among his list. He wasn't too worried about skill, but it did help that he had experience shooting a bow. He was smart, he knew, and unlike most Araluen teenagers, who possessed a lingering arrogance, Nick seemed to carry a certain determination. All in all, it was something that he would further assess him on, indirectly, of course.

They had reached the stable, where Nick would borrow one of many castle horses, while Crowley mounted Cropper, his beloved Ranger horse. Packed saddle bags and five minutes later, they were on the road, headed to Living Legends.

The breeze was lingering, and the overall climate was hot. Still, the wind seemed to perfectly offset the constant wave of heat, and the weather was far beyond what anyone could've asked for, especially this late into the year. The birds hidden within the color varying trees shouted cries of communication as the wildlife bristled, Crowley seeing a fox roaming the forests every now and then. The air was clean and settling, and the commandant inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, taking in the freshness of the oxygen.

During the trip, Nick had a sudden desire to learn more about Rangers. He didn't know exactly where it came from, perhaps from looks of admiration he'd seen from a few back inside the castle. He asked anyway, seeing no reason to not do so.

"Crowley?" he asked. The sandy haired Ranger looked over to Nick.

"Yes?"

Nick paused for a bit, then carried on. "What exactly does a Ranger do?" Crowley nodded thoughtfully. It was common question that most were hesitant to ask.

"We're the eyes and ears of the kingdom. Baron Edwin creates laws, and we're responsible for carrying them out, although a little more discretely. Like secret agents, almost." Crowley turned to see a satisfied nod from Nick.

"I suppose you can conclude that we can't actually make ourselves invisible, but we do rely a lot on unseen movement." he paused, as if wondering what the archer thought about all of it. He then pressed on.

"People tend to hold a lot back these days, and we need to know if anyone conspires against the kingdom. That way, if they do, we're already a step ahead."

Nick took in all of the information. "I see," he said.

Crowley had a question of his own. "Why do you ask?" he interrogated in return.

"I don't know; I was just wondering," Nick lied.

"That's certainly a good attribute for a Ranger," Crowley added.

"Curiosity?"

The older Ranger nodded. "Yes. I'm sure you've heard of Will Treaty, haven't you?"

"Of course. Did he really command all those Skandians?" Nick's inquisitiveness now reached new levels.

Again, Crowley nodded. "He sure did. He's one of the most ever-seeking Ranger's there are." Crowley shook his head. "Never was too comfortable sitting in one place."

The two horses slowed their pace and continued to plod along. Away from Nick's eye, Crowley hid a smile. He could tell that based on Nicks current pondered expression, that he was now genuinely interested in the Ranger Corps. Of course, there was a certain risk factor that came with being a Ranger. For every person that revered a Ranger, there was always one who had a divine hatred for them; a vendetta. The Ranger Corps were only for the strong minded; the type that wouldn't crack too easily.

"It's a dangerous job, however," said Crowley, breaking the chain of silence that had slowly grown as they both thought. He purged on.

"People can be very unpredictable towards us. Mind you, we're often trained to sense hostility," Crowley looked to see if Nick was listening. Seeing the young face turned to his, he carried on.

"Rangers have to be alert and wary at all times. It's a very restless and busy job if you ask me."

Another question formed in Nick's mind. "So, is that why you're always reading reports?"

Crowley looked at Nick and flashed him a casual smile. He comes to conclusions well, he gathered. "Yes. We have to be on top of everything around Araluen. If not, that makes it hard to find possible motives for crimes."

Nick thought for a bit. "Makes sense," he replied.

They were nearing the playing fields by now. They could see the population starting to pile in. Crowley assumed that Halt was already there, preparing for the game. Unlike Opening Charge, this next game was held on a different preserve; a bigger one, supposedly.

The Ranger eased Cropper to a halt. Nick had done the same with his favored stable horse, named Cobalt. Crowley turned directly to the young archer, and decided it would be best to test his interest, now that they had arrived at their destination.

"Of course, there's more to being a Ranger than what I just explained to you earlier." Crowley grinned. "After all, you certainly didn't expect me to simply tell you the ins and outs of the entire Corps, did you?"

Nick flared with curiosity. "Aww! Come on Crowley! I swear, I won't tell anyone!"

Crowley chuckled. "I would tell you more, but we have a strict rule against informing outsiders about specific information. Only apprentices could learn such intelligence." Nick smiled. The Ranger was obviously teasing him.

"Well, that choice may not be for me to decide," Nick answered. Crowley then said something that would instantly condemn Nick's thoughts to more pondering and wonder.

"What if I told you that the choice lies more in your hands than mine?" With that, the Ranger rode off for the field's stable, leaving Nick in the dust before he could answer. The archer raced after him.

"Wait!"

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><p>Walking into the large pavilion, Nick met up with Crowley, who'd been signing in. Upon entering, Skinner waved his friend over to the front desk.<p>

"What's up?" Nick asked. Skinner pointed to the list of names.

"New players," Skinner exclaimed, shaking his head. "Halt's team is near full. Crowley needs at least six people for the teams to be fair."

"Put me and some of the moderators under; I know that Tyler wanted to switch teams."

"Nice thinking," Skinner said as he filled in six line slots, evening out the teams. Crowley smiled beneath his cloak.

Skinner rose from the wooden chair and stretched his back, easing the strain of a three hour wait. "Well, I'm finished here." He briefed the Ranger and Nick. "The new field is a while away. Let's go," he said, leading the way out of the pavilion,

Hooded by his cloak, Crowley turned his attention to Nick, who he'd been walking alongside.

"I see you switched teams," he said. Nick looked at the Ranger. He had to admit, he looked a lot more mysterious than he did without the cowl. He smiled up at the concealed man.

"I'm not done with you just yet."

Skinner noticed the byplay between the two archers. Sensing nothing better to do, he chimed in, something he was quite renowned for doing.

"I see a conversation going on here; anyone want to fill me in?" Nick shook his head at his nosy friend.

"No Skinner, just keep walking."

Without turning, Skinner addressed his dearest companion. "Suit yourself. But I'm warning you, I can be a nice addition to what you to are talking about back there."

"I'll take your word on that," returned Nick.

The current field was nothing like the first, Nick had observed. For one, instead of one main hill, this field seemed to be all over the place. The boundaries nowhere in sight. He also noticed that the terrain wasn't constant; the area was seemingly plain in one area, but lush with plants in the other. There were small depressions in the ground toward the right side that could be used for unseen movement. Concluding, one word arose in his immediate thoughts: stealth.

"Fifteen minutes!"

Skinner looked to a group of people. "There are the moderators," he said. "I'll go and tell them the news."

Seeing his lanky friend swagger off, he assumed that Crowley would be headed to their starting point, which was on the other side of the lengthy playing area; the side that wasn't in current sight. Walking alongside the commandant, Nick further eyed the playing area. There was no immediate strategy he could think of, and the unknowingness got on his nerves.

He was surprised to see Crowley stop. Looking up, he saw two other cloaked figures. He suddenly felt out of place.

"Ready to lose Crowley?" Will asked.

"For the second time?" Halt added.

"I'll admit, you did get lucky last night," Crowley began. "But today might not be your lucky day." Nick watched in an undetectable awe as the legends conversed.

Halt folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you thing that you'll win today?" he inquired.

"Your roster. Because teams were uneven, I had the fortune of picking up some new additions," answered Crowley, and Nick soon felt an arm around his shoulder.

Halt eyed the character next to Crowley. It was the kid he'd played with yesterday. He's a good one, thought the bearded Ranger.

"Now if you would excuse us," Crowley began. "We have some planning to do."

During the drawn out walk to the other side, Nick watched as groups of players walked through the fields in order to get to their appropriate sides. It reminded Nick of what Crowley had said to Halt earlier.

"Crowley?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"What exactly are you planning for this match today?"

Crowley regarded Nick. The kid was tall for his age, around 5'10, but Crowley still had a few inches on him.

"Yes. If you haven't noticed, half of the field is forest-like, and the other is more of yesterday's stature."

"I've noticed," replied Nick.

Crowley continued. "And knowing an archer's tendency, most will try to take the quick way."

"The non-forested part."

Crowley nodded. "Exactly."

"So what do you suppose we do?"

Crowley finalized his plan. Halt and Will would most likely take cover in the forested region of the field, likewise to he and Nick. Gilan, who most likely already got a look for the field, probably already knew this as well. Of course, he would have to tell the tall Ranger about his plans on observing Nick in unseen movement, and he decided it would be best to brief both of them closer to the beginning of the game.

Crowley looked directly at his young companion, who in turn glanced back.

"Let's just say, I really hope you can use that longbow of yours.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey all. No big A/N here, other than keep reviewing. All of the feedback is really making me happy.

**1.) **Let's try something new. I have the next couple chapters done, so lets see if I can get five reviews between each one. That's right: five reviews and I'll update.

**2.) **I should really give light on where I got this whole Living Legends idea from. Well, it's a paintball event, held every year. It attracts hundreds of people each year, those people being pro teams, sponsors and all that jazz. And the best part: it's in Joliet, IL, only thirty minutes from where I live.

Excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. I check at least four times, but there's always something I notice after I post.

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><p>Commandant's Apprentice<p>

**9.**

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><p>"Stop for a second," quietly whispered Crowley, holding up a signaling hand for his young accomplice to see. The kid slowly came to a halt. Although none was said, he nonverbally questioned the Ranger, as they had made great progress within the first hour of Saturday's event.<p>

Still, he obliged, as he'd never eliminated this many people this early in the game. The eliminations were only a small fraction of the opposing team, but something had told him that slowly, he and the Ranger were gaining the edge; puncturing just the smallest hole in enemy lines.

They had been silently stalking in the forested area of the field, Crowley taking the lead with Nick closely behind. Not a lot had been said, but both had been consumed in their own thoughts and muses for the time being.

"Stay low," said the Ranger. "We're about to cross into enemy territory." Both commenced moving about in a slow crouch, keeping their eyes and ears open for any irregular movement. They had advanced far beyond their other teammates, most of whom got derailed at the beginning. They had tried to gain the field by rushing directly, and the hidden players on Halt's team easily picked off and deflected their assault. The chances of a rustle of movement being a teammate were now slim, and the two needed to remain as cautious and unseen as possible.

Crowley stopped, taking relief by sitting on a knee. Then, he watched as Nick did the same. The sandy haired commandant had to admit: Nick's movements were quiet. They weren't as hushed as a Ranger virtually silent footsteps, but they resembled experience. Equally impressive, the boy could shoot with accuracy, drawing the powerful bow with a seeming ease.

He reached into a pocket of a bag he'd been carrying and revealed a crumpled and folded sheet paper. Unfolding it produced a map; both he and Halt had received one, as the field's massiveness offered a variety of vantage points. Today's game also depended on strategy, and would be a test of the wits. Nick scooted closer to Crowley to examine the map that had become so withered due to constant use.

"We're here," said Crowley, circling an area with his index finger. He then glanced at Nick, who hadn't looked up from the paper, but instead nodded his head in comprehension.

Crowley had paused for a second, but now he continued on. "It's still early in the game, so the bulk of them are here," he pointed at a new location. Then a new idea suddenly took life. Rather than simply tell about their strategy, he would test the young archer.

"What do you think will happen in, say, another fifteen minutes?"

Nick concentrated on the map. Based on some of the eliminations he and Crowley had caused, a significant number of Halt's team we're just making their way into the heavily forested area. Gilan had stayed behind he and Crowley, and the possibility of being flanked and surrounded was almost nonexistent.

"Here," he stated, pointing to an area that wasn't as lush as the forest they were currently engulfed in. "They'll be a little reluctant though," he grinned at the Ranger. "Because most will have the notion that a Ranger would dwell in these parts."

Crowley smiled in return. Nick was correct, and it was high time he instruct the boy on his plans. "Exactly," he began. "In a good half hour, they'll have enough courage and numbers to enter this region."

"So, I'd assume that we're here to eliminate as many people as possible?" Nick asked. Crowley motioned his head vertically.

"That's exactly why we're here: to soften up the other team."

Nick nodded; it was now coming together in a clear way. "And that must be why Gilan stayed back with the others: to finish them off once we're done."

Crowley smiled at Nick in admiration. "Precisely. And based on the last thirty minutes, I'd say we're doing a pretty good job so far."

Nick yawned as he saw Crowley rummaging about in the bag once more, a canteen emerging from the same pocket the map had been in. "Tired?" he heard the Ranger ask.

"Not really," he answered. He squinted as he looked up at the autumn sky. "The sun is beginning to take its toll on me though."

Crowley took a sip of water, wiping his mouth with his sleeve after. "Have some water," he said, holding out the canteen in which Nick gratefully took.

The Ranger glanced the sky himself. The breeze had been short lived, and was now beginning to die as the humidity took power once more, this time with a new anger. Now without a breeze, the heat escalated, the sun pounding down on the two. Thankfully, they had both dressed lightly, with Crowley wearing his lighter cloak and Nick wearing a shirt made of a softer fabric.

"Thanks," said an appreciative Nick, handing Crowley the canteen. "I'll carry the bag."

"Carry it later," replied the Ranger, sitting back on the trunk of a tree. "We've made great time; let's take a break."

"What if someone finds us?" asked the young archer. Unlike Crowley's approach, he preferred the swift sort of combat.

Crowley laughed softly. "No one will want to look here, for a while at least."

Despite the urge to press on, Nick soon found himself sitting next to the cloaked man, enjoying the cool conditions of the shade.

"Well I'd be a fool; you really can shoot that longbow," joked Crowley.

Nick laughed. "I'm not as frail as I may look, you know," he said, while looking at the forest ahead of him. The morning light just barely reached to the forest grounds, and the scene around him was accompanied by a beautiful, green offset.

"I knew that much already," Crowley replied, removing the hood of his cloak. He retrieved the canteen and took another sip of the icy, refreshing drink, and placed it back in the pack.

"So," he began. "When did you start shooting?"

"Ever since I could remember," Nick answered, the Ranger nodding.

"I can see that. You're shot was far better than mine at your age."

Nick turned and looked at Crowley "Were you ever my age Crowley?" he joked in return.

Crowley chucked as he regarded the boy. "Yes; as a matter of fact, I was." he paused, as if trying to remember, then he spoke on. "I was fourteen and had the slightest clue of what I wanted to with my life."

Nick found relation in the Ranger's statement. "You too?" he asked.

"I had an idea, but that was about it."

"Well, you always start with something, don't you?"

Crowley looked quizzically at Nick. "And you haven't?"

Nick shook his head.

"You don't have any clue of what interests you?" Crowley enquired.

"No. I mean-," Nick struggled to find appropriate wording. "My father was knight, so I've been told. That dosen't really hold my interest though." He returned his gaze to the vast forest. "I just. . . don't know what's right."

The sandy haired commandant understood Nick's thinking. John had been a praised and revered knight, known all across Araluen. He could comprehend the influence and the precedent that was put on this young teen: to inherit the greatness of his father. He had obviously struck a sensitive spot with this young man; the pinnacle of his problems most likely.

He placed a reassuring a hand on Nick's shoulder. Nick returned from his own musings and glanced back at the Ranger.

"You'll find it," Crowley began. He smiled an honest, genuine smile and continued. "And when you do, it'll become clearer than water."

A smile touched Nick's face as well. "Thank you, Crowley."

Crowley stood up and brushed the seat of his pants. Then he offered a hand to his young friend. "Don't mention it. Now then, let's get back to business, shall we?"

* * *

><p><p>

After the short break, the two pressed on, Nick following closely behind the Ranger. As he'd promised, he had slung the straps of the backpack over his shoulders.

During the trek, he began to wonder about what Crowley had told him earlier that morning, about the decision of becoming a Ranger being in his hands. Was it implying that he already had Crowley's acceptance? No, it couldn't be. A Ranger's job seemed too precise; too thorough and meticulous, to have such a small initiation. There would've had to be some sort of evaluation, which most likely is this, Nick had now realized. But then again, Rangers had a way of keeping things humble; doing what one would least expect in some sort of manner.

He watched as Crowley swiftly moved, barely making a sound on the Earth. He couldn't help but to think: could he really become a Ranger? Nick River: an average kid with a bow? To him, things didn't match up. Rangers seemed for the bigger stories like Will Treaty and Halt, who were known as legends for their numerous and dangerous escapades.

"Two people, a few meters away from each other," Crowley began. "Take the one on the left, on my lead."

Nick shifted into focus. He saw where Crowley had been looking: two members of the other team, and they appeared to be conversing. They were crouched, as if trying to hide in the cover of the forest. He nocked and arrow and waited for Crowley's command.

"One." Nick raised the bow. Moving to a slightly cleared area, he remained crouched.

"Two." He slowly rose, his knees still bent as he drew the whipcord back.

"Three."

On the other side, two players were struck simultaneously with arrows. They looked around: nothing. One looked at the other. He simply shrugged, and yelled his elimination.

"Nice shot," whispered Crowley.

They proceeded on, remaining alert. The air was quiet; all Nick could hear was his breathing, which was deep and even. He certainly trusted the Ranger, and felt no apprehension, only eagerness and anticipation. Only something didn't seem right.

"Crowley," Nick quietly called. Although his back was turned, Nick knew that the Ranger was listening. He continued.

"Those were the only two people we've encountered in the last twenty minutes."

Crowley stopped and turned. He spoke in a wary tone. "I know."

"Did you see where they were as well? They weren't with the rest."

Crowley saw where Nick was going, as he recognized the leeriness in his tone. But again, he was to test him, not answer right away "Go on," he said.

"And when they yelled their elimination, it was a little louder than usual; a moderator wasn't even twenty meters from where they were."

Crowley tried his best to keep a smile from emerging. This kid was truly observant, he concluded. Under normal circumstances, any other player would not have noticed something as trivial as a yell, nonetheless his enemie's location.

"Yes. I had noticed that as well," Crowley explained. "Halt and Will must be close by."

Nick's heart began to thump with a newfound tempest. He knew that either one of the two were a threat. But the two legends working together? Even worse, if they were around, they now know that there are two. Both arrows had been shot at the same time, one hitting its target just a fraction of a second behind the other. He desperately tried to maintain his composure.

"What should we do?" he asked, scanning the trees thoroughly.

Crowley thought hard for a moment. Either decision brought unknown results. If they stayed as before, they risk being taken down simultaneously, given that Halt and Will are tracking together. If they were to spread out, either one of them could become singled out and eliminated.

"We'll separate, but only by about five meters. We'll carry out the same plan if we see more than one person."

Nick understood his answer. "Alright then," he said. "Anything else?"

Crowley pondered, and an idea struck him. Rather than completely dissecting, Nick could also go five meters ahead of Crowley, so that he could cover him. That way, if either of the other Rangers were to shoot, Crowley could track the arrow back and hunt down the shooter.

"Go five meters ahead of me as well," Crowley began. "I'll cover you if anything shall happen."

Nick nodded. He looked both ways once more, and swiftly walked fifteen feet to the right of Crowley, then another fifteen feet ahead of the Ranger. He looked back to make sure he was still visible, then continued on. Instead of constantly walking, he would now have to seek checkpoints. In turn, he would have to worry about making it to those checkpoints safely.

His eyes were constantly looking for any form of movement within the forest. Fatigue was starting to eat away at his energy, the process happening faster because of the blazing heat. He couldn't afford to take a rest, as Crowley's movements followed his.

He spotted a thick oak tree surrounded by some brush some ten meters away, and saw it as a vantage point. There was a clearing in the next twenty meters, which meant that spotting anyone would become easier.

He jogged to the tree, still crouched, covering the last few feet with an unnecessary slide. Instinctively, he looked back and found the Ranger, still within fifteen feet of him. He seemed to be eyeing a particular area that was ahead of him; to the left of Nick.

The boy looked closely. A player, remaining stationary, lay prone on the earth a distance away from Crowley. He raised his bow, nocking an arrow to the string, and fired.

"Out!"

Crowley said a silent thanks to Nick. He was sure of the enemy's location, but he couldn't have moved. He was still covering the archer in front of him, and his elimination would result in his, he figured.

Now that things settled down once more, he had the opportunity to look back on the exchange he and Nick had earlier. The problem the boy possessed was an internal one. Crowley wasn't one to meander in people's lives for too long, as he had his own problems to deal with.

But this was a special case. The kid has family, but is it possible that he may be missing something important? Something that only a man like John would be able to troubleshoot? Crowley snapped back to focus. Whatever it may be , it's something to think about later. They had come too far to get eliminated because of a lack of attention.

Now he saw the archer look to his right, at two other members of Halt's team, not very far from Nick's position, then back to Crowley, who in turn nodded. Nick had his bow raised, waiting for him to act.

But as Nick waited, he had been spotted by one of the opposing two. The player shot only a few seconds after Crowley, Nick shooting soon after. Crowley's arrow hit home, a surprised gasp coming from the bowman.

But another arrow, from Nick's immediate right, took flight out of nowhere. And as Nick appeared to duck and turn the projectile ended it's journey on the side of the boy's head.

Crowley nocked another in rapid succession, and shot the remaining archer only before hearing a brief shout of pain from Nick. He looked over to where he was, and raced over, disregarding any idea of stealth.

Nick dropped his bow, clutching his right wrist. He knew he wasn't out, as he had seen Crowley's arrow smashing into the man's chest, all while seeing an arrow headed straight at himself. Trying to take refuge behind the trunk, he was too late as the arrow, shot from only twenty feet away, connected with his wrist.

But another had hit him the head. He had the slightest idea of where it came from, but it had left its mark, as Nick's vision began to blur. He stumbled back a bit, everything moving in a dreamy, trancelike fashion. He recognized what appeared to be Crowley, running over to help. But the point was moot, as the damage had already been done.

Nick hit the ground face down, and took one last look at the scenery. He then buried his face in his arms, and lay there, like one of the many branches dotted along the forest floor, lifeless and unmoving.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey all, back again.

**1.) **This chapter is up just to get back into the groove of things; I'll probably redo it later. I was gone for a while, and I'll probably disappear once more. I'm way too busy with bigger priorities to focus mainly on this. Fanfiction is a hobby to me, and thus I treat it as so.

**2.) **Despite my long absence, you guys still reivewed. Thank you very much.

**3.) **As always, please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors

* * *

><p>Commandant's Apprentice<p>

Chapter Ten

**10.**

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><p>Light. Usually it would signal purity and cleanliness; a metaphor for faith and newness. Many would consider light to be the end to all darkness, and the start of a new vitality. However to Nick, its significance was quite a paradox, as his reflexes incoherently whispered one word: hell.<p>

It was blinding. It hurt. And worse, it wouldn't go away. His head felt like small daggers dragging and clawing away at his brain, and his eyes were tender and reflexive.

It wasn't long before he realized that he was on the ground, in the forested areas of the archery fields. But as for the purpose? A searched memory came forth with no answer, only confusion.

"He's awake," the teen heard someone say. The sun's rays were too bright for his sensitive eyesight, and he had absently covered his eyes with the length of his arms. He wondered vastly what was happening, but pain overrode his curiosity for once.

"Wait a second. He's gaining his bearings," another voice commanded. Slowly peeling his arm from his eyes, he realized that the sun wasn't as illuminating as it had been. Perhaps it might have been the cool area of shade the encumbered him, or that his eyes were becoming use to the daily strain once more. Whatever the case was, he could now finally see, and what he saw confused him more than his situation. Five people: Four of them cloaked, the other a moderator; all intently gazing at him.

"He's awake," he heard a young voice triumphantly state.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," a new voice said, a tad gruffly.

Nick could now see in detail, unlike the vague silhouettes that his mind had processed earlier. The four cloaked ones were the Rangers, including Halt; although instead of the cold, hard look he normally received, this one appeared to concede wonder and curiosity.

"Someone help me get him up," a fairly recognizable voice ordered. As the teen was assisted up and was positioned leaning on a tree. An involuntary pain throbbed about in his wrist. He instinctively raised his arm, and brought his wrist to a new resting position: his lap.

Looking at it more closely, he gathered that it was inflamed. Not only that, it looked deformed, almost warped. It appeared like someone had taken a hammer to the bone, hard enough until the bone broke out of place.

"What the?" he silently whispered. Looking up at the Rangers and moderator, he implied a request for an explanation.

Crowley looked observingly at Nick. In some cases, one would be able to directly see any signs and symptoms of a neurological injury. But in this instance, he saw none in the boy, only confusion and bewilderment, which relieved the old Ranger greatly. Internally, his thoughts had just breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"How do feel?" Crowley asked. Nick looked at the older Ranger, who he'd grown exceptionally fond of that weekend.

"Fine." he replied. Crowley, however, could see the evident pain on the kid

"Anything hurt?"

Nick knew that lying to the Ranger was an unwise move, as he would definitely see through it. No sense in trying to tough it out, he thought.

"My head," he exclaimed, looking up at the forested sky, squinting a little as he did so. Then his glanced back down at his malady. "And my wrist," he added.

Halt leaned forward in his crouched position. "Let me see."

Nick raised his arm, where Halt seized it and began probing at the muscles and tendons at and around it. During the time, he had hit a certain area that caused a great deal of pain for the teen.

"Ow!" Nick quietly yelped.

Instinctively, Halt eased the pressure on his examination. It was definitely broken, but he needed to see to what extent.

Crowley, in turn, had his own list of precautions he needed to get across. "Do you know where you are?" was his first advance.

Of course, the teen thought. "Living Legends," he answered.

Crowley nodded. He's stable, he concluded. "Do you know what day it is?" was his next inquiry

"Saturday."

"Who's our king?"

"King Duncan."

"Country?"

Nick smiled at Crowley. "Araluen; I'm okay Crowley."

Crowley smiled at his young companion, still crouching beside him. "Only checking," he said. "Halt, what's his wrist like?"

"Broken," said the grizzled Ranger. "He'll need to see a healer."

"How bad?" Nick asked. Halt regarded the archer with modesty.

"Bad," he calmly replied. "I'm surprised that you're still able to move it."

Crowley silently regarded Nick. Most people, even grown adults, would howl and whimper in pain upon a broken bone of any sort. And Halt wasn't one to exaggerate about anything, Crowley realized. That meant that Nick's wrist was truly broken; and bad, as Halt had put it. He could tell the boy was in pain based on his flushed appearance, and that he wouldn't be conscious for too much longer.

He had to admit, Crowley had become quite fond of the tall archer as of late. He was extremely athletic, deceptively fast, and was good with a bow. But unlike most athletes his age, he was open to advice, rather than the bold, arrogant teenagers with likewise parents His tracking and perception skills were far beyond what Crowley had seen at that age. If he were to become a Ranger, he noted, rather than learning the whole process of shooting a bow and unseen movement; all the sandy haired commandant needed to do was fine tune and hone his skills; polishing his skills and assets in a typical five year apprenticeship would do a lot more than teaching him the ropes. And with help from Halt, Will, and other Rangers, the boy would become a natural. No, better: a prodigy. He now realized: This was an opportunity he couldn't miss. The boy had all of the three tools needed for the Ranger Corps: speed, silence, intelligence, as well as more.

All he needed was guidance. The boy tended to become unsure of himself at times, and although he appeared confident, which he was, there were still weak spots that needed to be strengthened. All of it comes as a result of growing up without John: his father. Could Crowley be the missing asset of the kid's life? Who was he: a busy old Ranger, to step into someone else's life and guide them? He knew Nick needed an extra sense of guidance, but was he apt to fit the role? Worse, would Kaitlyn _let _him into that role? Questions had seemed to be the entire theme of the weekend.

Halt saw the man, and could tell that he was obviously deep in thoughts and musings, courtesy of years of friendship. It wasn't like his friend to ponder for too long. The Crowley he knew was quick to develop new ideas and tactics, and he was quite renowned for being able to do so that fast.

"Does this mean I can't go to the Final Battle?" Nick asked, looking intently at Crowley, interrupting his inner thoughts.

Crowley answered Nick, laughing softly. "We'll see. You should really be worrying about what Kaitlyn will have to say about this rather than if you'll be able to play tomorrow."

Halt glanced at Will, who had been watching the whole ordeal with interest. As for the moderator, he had left a little while before, reassured that the injured player was to be fine. "Will, could you take Nick over to grab his belongings? I would like to speak with Crowley privately."

Will nodded, and proceeded to help Nick on his feet, carefully and slowly. Nick stumbled at first, due to vertigo, but he soon regained his footing. He slowly followed the Ranger though the thick forest as Halt watched. Then, when they were out of earshot, he returned his attention to his dearest friend, who had wondered why Halt would want to privately speak to him. There were only a select number of times where Halt would require his attention or insight privately.

"Crowley," Halt began. "I think it's time you tell me what's been on your mind."

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><p>The two had been plodding about in the forest for a good ten minutes now, both of them realizing how much bigger the playing field was than their initial perceptions. For the most part, the walk had been silent, but as Nick's conditions were slowly bettering, his curiosity began to flare once more, and an immediate question came to mind.<p>

"Hey. Uh. . . Will?" he asked. The Ranger, no more than four years older than Nick himself, glanced back at the archer. His approach was slightly better than most. Will's legendary status was spreading like wildfire around Araluen, and most people would feel bewildered and inadequate upon speaking to him.

"Yes?"

"What happened? I mean, why was I on the ground?

Will raised an eyebrow, a trait he had copied from Halt. "You mean you don't remember?"

Nick shook his head. "No. I only remember running around in the forest with Crowley. I ran to certain spot, and then woke up leaned against a tree."

Will smiled. "I'm not exactly sure what happened. I was moving myself, when I saw Crowley and Halt crouched around something."

"Oh," Nick replied. A feeling of guilt washed over him now. If he hadn't gotten hurt, Crowley, as well as Halt and Will, would have still been enjoying the adrenaline rush of Living Legends. He had to apologize.

"Sorry Will."

"Sorry? For what?"

"For ruining you and Halt's game."

"Don't be sorry for that," Will explained. "If I'm not mistaken, Halt was the one who shot you in the head. It's not like you could've controlled that."

"Yes, but you guys didn't have to stop for me."

"Well, I'm sure you didn't expect Crowley to run past you saying 'Oh well', did you?"

Nick laughed. "Of course not." He then wondered about the sandy haired Ranger. What did Halt want to talk about? He then shook it off. Chances were that it was some top secret Ranger ordeal. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask, as Will seemed friendly enough. Also, it kept the dying conversation going.

They had made it back to the entrance pavilion, where Nick sought his bag carrying his belongings. He remained one handed, as the pain in his wrist still meandered along. After packing, the two sat outside at a bench, and enjoyed the weather. The sun was still evident as the sky held very little clouds, but breeze was beginning to come forth, and the afternoon peacefulness began to trigger their fatigue.

"So, what do you think they're talking about?" Nick asked the Ranger.

Will turned to the young archer. He could tell that he was still a little hazy from waking not too long ago. It was only logical, he thought. Nick was most likely still concussed, and would doze deeply the next time he slept. "If you can keep it a secret, they're talking about you."

"Me?" Nick peered at Will intently

"Yes. You should know by now that Crowley wants you as his apprentice."

Nick looked ahead. Some of the eliminated players were beginning to leave, as they saw no point in staying. "I had the notion, but I wasn't sure it was true. How do you know?"

"Crowley was talking to Halt before the match, while you were setting up."

"I never even realized he left." Nick answered.

Will nodded. "Yes, he has quite the reputation for lingering around unnoticed. Anyway, he's having doubts about it. He doesn't think that he's able to do it."

"Why not?"

"It's a typical feeling for Ranger's and their first apprentices. I got Halt to admit that when asking him about Gilan. Halt's probably telling him to lose his doubts."

Nick nodded. Another question, one that haunted him since the beginning of the weekend, came to mind. The timing being right, he asked.

"Will, do you think I could be a Ranger," he asked, staring at the players emerging from the forest. The game must have been near its end.

"Well, Crowley's is obviously interested in you. Shouldn't that be enough?"

"It should. But I just don't think—"

"That you're good enough?" Will now looked at Nick, who glanced back in return.

"Yes," replied Nick, a little awkwardly. It was reassuring yet surprising that Will knew exactly what he was going to say.

"I see," Will said, buying more time to think. Nick obviously wanted to become a Ranger. But he had what many first year apprentices still have: a preset doubt that their master's choice was a mistake. He had had it himself, but it had been quickly dispelled.

"Don't let it bother you. Crowley is picking you for a reason: because he sees potential in you. Don't change yourself to what you think he prefers. Just keep at it and everything should run its course."

Nick regarded Will. It seemed to be a theme that all Rangers were wise. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Will placed an encouraging hand on Nick's shoulder. "Positive. Oh, Hello. There's Crowley and Halt. Let's see what they're up to.

* * *

><p>"Okay," Crowley began, signaling to Nick. "Ready to go?"<p>

Nick nodded tiredly. "Yes," he answered, mounting Cobalt, the horse from the castle stable.

"How do you feel?" Crowley asked. He needed constant updates to see if the boy's body was working the way it should.

"Good," Nick replied.

"Good," Crowley began as he mounted Cropper. His face fixed into that of a more serious expression. "Once we get back to the castle, there's something I need to discuss with you.'"

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><p>Thanks!<p>

-Invent.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey!

**1.) **Now hold on, I know that I am uploading this a day early. But I had already finished it, so why not? Also, the ending of this may be a little abrupt, sorry about that.

**2.) **If you haven't already my profile, I plan on updating every Monday. But know I will change that, since I am uploading earlier. So expect updates around Saturday, Sunday, or Monday.

**3.) **This chapter is a little more focused on a characterization as well as plot, but it did seem a little short when I was reading over it. So if it is, please tell me in a PM or a review. Also, as you have been so kind in doing, please excuse any grammatial errors. I always tend to see an error after I upload the chapter, and by then my computer is off and I am on my phone.

**4.) This part of my update is in bold print. Why, you ask? Because I want to ask all of my readers to do me a favor. Let's break a personal milestone. On my other fanfiction account, which is now long abondoned, the highest number of reviews I have recieved by the eleventh chapter is 41. So if I could get 42 reviews for this story, I would be amazed. Whatever needs to be done (ex: reviewing on other chapters, reveiwing twice, etc.) would be accepted. But if you could please include suggestions or constructive criticism, or some things you like about my story, that would be great.**

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><p>Commandant's Apprentice<p>

Chapter Eleven

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><p>"It's broken," said the white haired healer. It usually wasn't an occasion when he would see a tall fellow walk through the door, deformation obvious in his body. Like Crowley, he had watched the young boy grow in the safety and leisure of Castle Araluen, and was marveled at how he's turned out so far.<p>

They had arrived about twenty minutes prior, and now he had diagnosed the teen with a broken wrist, as well as a concussion. The kid was athletic, he knew, but at times he wondered if he was too athletic, or simply accident prone.

Nick peered at Crowley, who'd been standing beside the elderly healer. The kid then sighed. "There goes the Final Battle."

The Final Battle was the be-all-end-all of Living Legends. The game was actually quite simple, but it was the supernatural adrenaline rush when played that built up the event's hype. Two teams, each with numbers big as the castle's army itself, played a series of mind bending and physically pushing games, all mixed into one event too grand for a complex name.

Crowley shrugged in an "oh well" type of gesture. He knew of the kid's competitiveness and athleticism, but even the most athletic had to know when to stop. It was another part of training that would hopefully be assessed to the young man, that is, if Crowley could ever start the conversation. Apprehension had been troubling the Ranger, and he wasn't sure if Nick would agree to the life and dedication of a Ranger.

The healer, ironically named Edwin as well, shot a friendly scold in Nick's direction. "My goodness! Your wrist is broken, again, and you're worried about a game?" He then turned to Crowley. "Somebody, please help this child!"

Nick laughed quietly. Edwin was renowned for cheering up an injured patient with his comedy, although newcomers might have seen it as ridicule. Because Edwin was so elderly, he would appear as if he were serious in his joking attempts, ultimately making it seem like he was a crazy old man. Crowley gave a chuckle as well. Edwin, who had been preparing traditional casting, set Nick's arm down, carful in placing it gently on the boy's lap, now walked over to where it was. He was still quietly muttering in fits of mock chastisement when he returned to the single bed.

"Here, let's try this," he said while seizing Nick's wrist once more, shaking his head and sighing as a part of another fake exasperation gesture, causing the archer to laugh once more.

"Oh, come on! It can't be that bad!" he explained between fits of laughter. He was fond of the white haired, short healer. He'd taken care of Nick's maladies since his early youth, and he saw no problem in trusting the man and his seemingly endless knowledge of the body.

Edwin ignored him, appearing to be in his own world. He continuously muttered, speaking beneath his help about how the kid was accident prone, how he needed help, and such exclamations. He slipped the cast over Nick's wrist, and watched as he experimentally moved it back and forth, finding the protection mechanism to his liking.

"Thank you, Edwin," Nick regarded, smiling still as he made eye contact with Edwin. The healer stared at the teen for a good five seconds, turned and continued on with his self-rambling. Nick began to laugh again as Crowley watched the whole exchange from a nearby chair, smiling.

"Get some rest now," said Edwin, sounding tired and exasperated. "You're still concussed. For all I know, you might return without a head if I turn you loose now. I have matters to deal with elsewhere. Crowley, I presume you'll take care of him?

The Ranger nodded, looking up from a report. "I'll take him off your hands."

Following simple orders, Nick lay flat on the bed, looking at the ceiling. Although he had rested beforehand, he was still considerably tired. He figured he would be like this for the next couple days, or as long the concussion lasted. He then turned to the Ranger sitting in the chair beside the bed, reading what looked like another document.

"Do you alwaysread reports?" he asked in a jokingly manner.

Crowley returned a smile to Nick. "When I'm not caring for broken bones and injured heads, then yes," he answered.

Nick grinned tiredly as he once again lay on his back, gazing straight ahead of himself at the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I tend to get a little competitive at times."

Crowley chuckled. "I can see that, trust me."

Nick inwardly frowned. Crowley had delivered the statement in a casual and friendly tone, as he usually did. But it had also sounded like it contained some sort of underlying message. He blew it off; it must've been his headache that now began to grow on him.

"What's it about anyway?" he asked.

"Oh, Ranger things," answered Crowley, in an inside-knowledge type of voice.

"Like the things you couldn't tell me unless I was your apprentice?" he questioned, mocking Crowley's statement from earlier that morning.

"Exactly."

Nick wondered for a moment. Was Crowley trying to pester him into revealing his interest in the Ranger Corps? Had he made his desire too obvious to the sandy haired Ranger? Figuring that was the case, he decided to finally express his growing interest in the Ranger business. It was high time anyway.

"Crowley?"

"Yes?"

Nick let the silence grow for a few moments, as he saw nothing other to say. Then, his courage failing him, he decided to change the subject.

"You had wanted to discuss something with me. You said that we'd wait until we got back to the castle?"

Crowley rested the lengthy document on his lap. Now was the time, when there was nothing to do, he thought. "I should probably tell you later," he said. "Like Edwin said, you're still concussed. You should get some more rest first."

Nick smiled inwardly. He knew Crowley only cared about his well-being. He was still a little exhausted, but was able to concentrate more easily. "I'm fine, Crowley, I just have a headache," he explained.

"Well then", he began, shifting in his seat a little. "It's about time I've told you: I think you have the potential to become a Ranger."

Nick couldn't help but to smile. It wasn't a large, blaring grin, but rather a flattered, anticipated one. He then realized that Will was right, which made the sense of mystery associated with Rangers even bigger than it had been.

Crowley continued. "And no, not because you can shoot a bow. Any kid nowadays can, although I'd have to say your skill is far superior."

"Thanks; I've been practicing,"

The Ranger nodded. "Yes, I figured as much. But unlike other archers your age, I've seen that your thought process and sense of tactical situations is a lot faster than theirs, even faster than a good number of Rangers."

Nick raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?" he asked.

Crowley nodded again. "But I have also seen that the faster you come to conclusions, you tend to second guess yourself. Can I ask you a question?"

Nick shot an inquisitive look at the Ranger, wondering where he was going with this. "Sure," he replied.

"Earlier today, at Living Legends, were you shooting for accuracy or speed?"

Nick's curiosity grew. Why would he be asking him about this? "Well, I shot for accuracy, because the field was too big to shoot for speed. If I missed, then whoever I was shooting would escape into the forest."

Crowley sat up in the armchair. "Exactly."

"Excuse me for asking, but what did that have to do with second guessing myself?"  
>Crowley smiled as he continued on. "You mentally told yourself to shoot for accuracy, right?<p>

The teen glared at Crowley with a truly confused expression. "Right."

"You told yourself to shoot for accuracy instead of speed, and it was obviously easy for you to conclude why. So tell me, why can't you do the same for tactical decisions?

Nick shook his head. "I still don't get it."

"I'm saying that your tendency would be an easy fix. Because as you already showed today, accuracy is far more important than speed."

The archer smiled. He understood the Ranger's sense of thinking. He nodded, signaling for the Ranger to go on.

"But as you also may know, a Ranger's life isn't an easy one." Crowley now replaced his normally light and cheerful expression with a more serious one. "We often carry out things while remaining undetected, which is always a dangerous thing." He paused, his mind far away for a moment, then continued. "Given our fame, or infamy, if you will, a lot of people and underground movements constantly conspire against us."

Crowley watched as Nick's expression became unsure and confused. He then wondered if he was being too harsh on the kid. Seeing no other way, he dismissed it. If he were to become a Ranger, especially to the commandant, things would have to be put plainly and as it is, without a sugar coating.

"Although being a Ranger is like walking with an 'X' on your back, many people are also reluctant of us, and will refuse to do anything that would receive a Ranger's attention. I'm sure you've heard of how we make ourselves invisible and all that mumbo-gumbo," he said, waving his hands in a mock exaggerative gesture.

Nick nodded. He had heard numerous myths over his childhood about Rangers and their mysteriousness, and had grown to dismiss all of them. He concluded that Rangers train extensively for a long period of time, for their importance within the kingdom was grand. He once again signaled for the Ranger to continue.

"Our course of training covers too many topics to be encumbered within a typical three year span. But five years wouldn't be too much more." He smiled. "Besides, if you were to become apprenticed to me, your training would end when you're nineteen, and be the envy of the final year apprentice at the time, who are often a couple years older."

Nick returned a smile to the Ranger. A five year apprenticeship wouldn't be a problem, he figured. In fact, perfecting his skills in five years with Crowley was a good thought to his minds. But Crowley had mentioned the danger of being a Ranger earlier. He'd said that there were many 'underground movements' out to conspire against them. The thought of it already made him restless: being watched, conspired against, and like Crowley had said, practically walking with an "X" on his back.

"You had said that Rangers are conspired against, which sounds really dangerous." Nick began. "Is that something to worry about all the time?

Crowley regarded Nick's question, as it was a logical one to ask. Being that the kid has grown in the safety of one of the most heavily guarded castles, as well as the kingdom's capital, it was only right for him to feel endangered by the thought of constantly being observed.

"Actually, once you're into the heart of the training, you won't worry about it at all. You see, most of these people who do plot against us are far too inferior to do any damage to our advanced knowledge. Half of the time, we're on to them before they even realize it. But as I said before, things like that are always happening, left and right."  
>He paused, and noticed and concluded that the danger of it all was the only thing that was troubling the young teen.<p>

The commandant smiled as he reassured his pending protégé. "But don't worry. That's what I'm here for: to lessen the apprehension, as well as the workload."

Nick now wondered heavily, as Crowley had ended the conversation, signaling that it was now his time to think about it all. It had all sounded great. He would train under the wing of Crowley, whom he'd grown to respect deeply, to become a part of one of the most elite forces in all of Araluen. And the fact that the Ranger himself thought he had the potential was very humbling to him.

But as Crowley had most likely suspected, the danger made him restless. He couldn't stand the idea of being watched and observed constantly by people that had a genuine vendetta against him. Like stories about Rangers, he had also heard the morbid tales of some of their deaths. He had kept in mind that they were most likely rumors, but who's to say that they weren't true?

But there was something about Crowley, and he couldn't put his finger on it. His demeanor and expression was usually cheerful and ebullient, but something had told Nick that Crowley would be more than the typical 'get the job done' type of master. He had grown fond of the sandy haired Ranger over the last few days, and he could sense the amount of care he had towards him. Crowley had inadvertently and esoterically gave him the hint that he would protect him; be a mentor to him. And in his eyes, he couldn't have thought of a better person to do so.

"Crowley?" he asked.

The Ranger had been waiting for his decision intently. "Made your decision already?"

Nick nodded. He then smiled as he answered the Ranger. The next five years of his life were bound for adventure and new experiences. "How comfortable are those cloaks?"

Crowley chuckled. "I take that as a yes, then?

Nick nodded as he gave a quick fit of laughter himself. Crowley decided to answer his question

"Oh, these?" He examined the fabric, his expressions fixed in that of a mockery of harsh criticism. "Although the ventilation at times does leave a little to be desired."

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><p>Thanks!<p>

-Invent.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey!

**1.) **Sorry for the slow updates. No excuses this time; I'm getting a little lazy with this

**2.) **Just a heads up, as compensation for my slow updates, the chapters will start to become more lengthy, in an effort to explain more. So if you see chapters with 4,000 - 5,000 words in it, please don't be alarmed

**3.) **As always, please excuse any grammatical and/or spelling errors, and **REVIEW**

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><p>Commandant's Apprentice<p>

**12.**

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><p>THREE WEEKS LATER<p>

All Crowley could do was laugh. It had been nearly a month since his protégé, Nick, had officially become an apprentice Ranger, and it seemed as if his cleanliness hadn't changed at all. Standing in the cozy mess, the sandy haired commandant brought himself to realize that the room itself wasn't as dirty as he presented it to be, and rather it was his compulsiveness acting up again. It was a good trait to have, at times, he noted.

Where a dry washboard and basin lay in their places, an abundance of worn clothes were scattered haphazardly around it, although there happened to be a dedicated bin for the very purpose. Lying right beside the bed, in which Nick peacefully dozed underneath a few covers, lay his unstrung longbow, where a heap of whipcord, glue, and other matinence features weren't too far astray. For his crossbow, it also lay unstrung, but on a bedroom table rather than the wooden floor. All in all, it had seemed like his apprentice had retired a bit later that night.

It was great timing, he thought, since today was Sunday. It was a tradition for craftmasters to give their apprentices a Sunday leave, and the commandant was all for tradition. "Try not to make yourself seem different; it'll make it easier for possible threats to spot you," he would often tell Nick on his many lectures of tactic lessons, usually started by an irrelevant-but-comparable situation such as this. Nick would usually use the day to catch up things he'd been assigned by the older Ranger, which usually wouldn't take him long. After he would finish, he would be off, doing whatever teenagers did around the fief, returning before a meticulously set curfew of seven.

Which made the Ranger think as he took a seat at the table: In the past three weeks, the boy had showed Crowley a lot more than the capability to think and shoot a bow. In fact, he'd by far exceeded Crowley's expectations when it came to both, but more importantly the mental portion. Instead of teaching in lectures, where the Ranger had a tendency to speak rhetorically sometimes, the commandant had found it best to assess his apprentice in means of documents. Hell, he might as well get used to it, he thought. If he were to become the Ranger commandant, he would definitely need to get used to the type of workload. The Ranger then thought for a moment. It was way too early for him to even possess the thought of his apprentice becoming the future commandant. He had five years of teaching the kid the ways of a Ranger, followed by Nick's years of being a fully-fledged member of the elite group, to decide whether or not he was fit for the role. Besides, if something were to happen to Crowley, Halt would most likely take over the job.

Then, realizing that he had skipped ahead, as his mind tended to do in times of intense thought and scenario planning, he stopped himself. Nick would have to prove himself if he were to become the next commandant.

Not that it would be a problem.

He stood up from the chair, cautiously making sure he made no loud movements. Nick wasn't exactly the morning person, he had learned. He wouldn't become cranky like most, but would rather appear disoriented, something a remedy named coffee wouldn't fail to fix. Crowley regarded Nick as he slept silently and peacefully, sprawled out on the cozy bed in apparent comfort. The sight of it alone made Crowley yawn softly, as his body still longed for his mattress, despite the years of consistently waking up early. But today didn't hold the choice of simply drifting through the efforts of the day.

He silently walked closer to where Nick slept. Today held an important meeting, regarding the statuses of surrounding countries, a meeting that required a logical and intelligent thought process. He softly nudged the boy a couple times, as he appeared to be encumbered in a deep, comforting sleep. He nudged again, and a pair of eyes, slightly reddened by the early hours, opened slowly.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," said the older Ranger, smiling as he reseated himself on the edge of the bed to fasten his boots for the day. He gently patted the teen on the belly twice, as he had been lying on his back.

Nick returned a smile in the midst of his drowsiness. The weeks had told him that Crowley was playfully scorning him, and that he was only joking when he made remarks like that. He looked around observingly, seeing that the room was darker than the normal six o'clock light. "What time is it?" His voice was tired and ragged.

"Too early for you to be up," Crowley answered. He began to slip on his left boot, temporarily holding the leg of his breeches up in order to fasten his laces.

"Then please enlighten me by telling me why I am," replied Nick before emitting a drowsy sigh and stretching his limbs. The fancy in his statement was that he was only kidding, which seemed to be the ever-present theme between the two.

Crowley chuckled softly. Nick could be quite the entertainer at times, he thought. "I figured I would tell you that I'm going to be busy all day today. After all, I can't leave a fifteen year old in my apartment, oblivious to where I am. Who knows what would happen in here without my knowledge." It didn't take Crowley long to realize that he and his friend Skinner were popular around the castle among the other teenagers. Whether it was considered fame or infamy was a whole other matter.

Nick gave an exhausted grin once more, and for a second Crowley thought he could see a hint of mischief in his eyes. "You know, that's not a bad idea," answered the apprentice, and he and Crowley shared a quiet laugh.

"Anyway, I'm off to a meeting that's unfortunately going to take most of my day," said the commandant. "The rest will consist of me doing what I do best."

"Errands?" asked Nick.

Crowley nodded. "Exactly. And I may need you to run a couple things over to Redmont for me and save me the trouble of going over there myself."

Nick, whom had closed his eyes in an effort to escape the sensitivity, snapped his fingers and pointed at Crowley in an accepting gesture. "Got it," he answered. "Anything else?"

Crowley thought hard for a moment. "Did you finish your work?" he asked.

"Almost. I only have a few pages left," answered Nick.

The commandant regarded Nick. "I wish I could say the same." He finished lacing his boots and further addressed his apprentice. "Coffee's ready, if you want any."

That got Nick's attention. After a few more sigh and stretch sequences, he managed to lift himself out of bed. He began walking in the direction of the bedroom door, where Crowley was waiting for him. As he began to pass his master, Crowley noticed something peculiar about his apprentice. Nick had seemed to be growing.

"Are you getting taller?" he asked, as Nick approached him.

The teen rubbed his disheveled hair. "I dunno," he absently answered. The morning drowsiness needed time to subside. Crowley knew he was growing, simply from logic. These past three weeks have been filled with physically grueling exercise, but Nick still appeared skinny and lanky. An increase in height meant the replenishing of a wardrobe, as well as a heightened appetite.

"Oh boy," he said, joking only halfway.

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><p>Crowley had always had a knack for perception. He wasn't quite sure where he acquired the ability, or how, but he had a unique ability to accurately predict what one might have been feeling. Of course, there were limits to the ability, as it was nothing supernatural. Halt, for instance, had a poker face no one could read. He presumed a calm nature and expression, but no one would know what the Ranger might've actually been thinking at the time.<p>

Both he and Nick had the same document in their hands. It was an assessment for the young teen, and it was a part of the more intellectual portion of his training. When he'd come stumped—albeit – not that often, Crowley would be able to assist his apprentice's growing deductive processes. Being the protégé to the Ranger Corps commandant, Nick's assessments and training were significantly upped in terms of difficulty and length. Of course, Crowley would never tell him that, as Nick was still able to exceed with flying colors.

The two sat around a table within the main room of Crowley's apartment. There had been nothing wrong with the cabin, and they would often use it as a rest area for when they returned from lengthy tracking lessons. "Whenever we're granted luxuries, there's no reason not to enjoy them," Crowley would say.

The document was a murder case which Crowley created and was completely fictional. The case started off as an average one, motivated by hatred, revenge, and motives of the nature. But through a closer look at the files given to Nick, the teen had realized that more crimes had been taking effect. And since Crowley had instructed him to seek out any detail possible, Nick had gathered that they all happened around a scheduled time: at least one crime every Monday.

When Nick would declare his findings, Crowley would simply nod a quiet encouragement for his young accomplice to continue. To him, it was satisfying to see Nick deep in thought; it seemed to reassure the commandant that he wasn't pressing too hard.

But this time, however, the apprentice seemed stumped. "I don't know," he said, taking ample time between each word to ponder a possible answer. Seeing none, he looked to his master.

Crowley took a sip of coffee; it was the favored drink among Rangers. "Well," he began. He sat in a chair by the table, one of his legs over the other, so that they were perpendicular to each other. "You found that the crimes occurred at the beginning of every week."

"Yes," Nick answered, his voice still tired due to the early morning. "There isn't a crime that happened later than Wednesday."

Crowley nodded. "Right. And where were they located?"

The teen scanned over the files again, more as a preemptive gesture, since he already knew the answer. The located of each and every crime had varied greatly, some of them extending into the eastern part of Araluen. There had been one in Skandia as well. "They're all over the place. Two in Whitby, one in Aspienne. There's also one in Skandia."

"So, where did the first one start?" was Crowley's next inquiry.

Nick looked over the files again, more importantly at the date and location of each. Coledale and Whitby were two eastern fiefs, near Caraway. They were medium sized fiefs, although Whitby was considered an important necessity regarding Araluen's defenses. They both served as an information feeder to Caraway, a bigger and a substantially more important fief. However, the very first crime, the initial murder, had occurred in Aspienne, a southwestern fief.

"Aspienne," was Nick's one worded answer.

Crowley rose from his seat, grabbed hold of the prized kettle, and began to replenish his mug. "Correct; you have that part right," he answered. "Coffee?"

Nick nodded, without looking up from the mess of reports. "Thanks."

The commandant finished refilling both of the mugs, and sat back down, resuming the position he had once been in. "But what do you notice about the location of the crimes in relativity to their location?"

The apprentice Ranger shrugged. It was like Crowley to not directly give him the answer, and rather point him in the right direction. He didn't mind though, as it provided him more of a challenge, plus the satisfaction of when it was all finished. He studied the papers even more intently than previously. What he saw may have provided the answer he needed.

"They start in Aspienne, and travel downwards," he answered. Crowley thought he could hear a hint of enthusiasm shrouded beneath the tiredness.

The sandy haired commandant sat forward in the chair. "Right! So what'll you predict will happen within the next couple weeks?"

The fiefs with multiple numbers of crimes were the bigger ones, such as Caraway and Whitby. Within a couple weeks, the fake enemies would most likely try to hit another large fief, eventually weakening the defenses in the fiefs they had left behind and reaching Araluen.

"They'll try to take Redmont, since it's closest to Araluen," said Nick

Crowley beamed at his apprentice. "Exactly," was his satisfied reply. He sat back once more in the chair and folded his arms. "Now the question is: What should _you_ do?"

Nick thought hard, as he had done for the last twenty minutes. But Crowley stopped him before he could answer. "I have to go. Think about it for a while."

Nick sat back in his chair, and allowed his mind to slow. It was still early morning, and no amount of coffee could suppress the sleepiness that had been temporarily subdued thanks to the strong effects of the bitter drink. He took a long swig of coffee, and sighed appreciatively.

"Could you please envelope those messages and deliver them to Redmont for me?"

The teen nodded as he slumped in the seat, allowing his eyes temporary refuge by closing them. Crowley who had retrieved a few items from his desk, now walked past Nick while heading for the door. He laughed at the look of his apprentice's wary state.

"Still in one piece over there?" he asked, rustling the boy's already disheveled morning hair.

Nick gave a quiet snort of laughter as he shooed away Crowley's friendly attack. "I think so. Who do I deliver them to?"

The Ranger now opened the apartment door. Already, he could hear as some of the castle inhabitants began to rise, preparing for the busy day ahead of them. "Read them."

The young archer laughed. He would never give me a straight answer, he thought. It wasn't chastisement though, as he knew that the older Ranger was only getting his mind to run. Still, he had a habit of picking on Crowley when the time arose.

"Do you ever just answer the question?" he asked, a little loudly now that Crowley was slipping through the door.

The Ranger stopped. Nick could see a smile forming within the cowl that Crowley had just pulled up.

"I don't know; do I?"

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><p><strong>Thanks!<strong>

**-Invent.**

**Hey, I see you. I know you want to hit that button. You know? The one that says review? Go ahead, click it. It won't hurt you, and it'll only take a few minutes. So why not? It looks very appealing, all blue and junk. Just click it and see what happens.**


	13. Your Choice! (An Author's Note)

Your Choice!

The Author's Note

After a solid five months of chronic computer crashes and writer's block, and pure laziness, I had an opportunity to read this fic after about two years of it collecting dust. I had thought about putting this up for adoption, but the amount of plot ideas alongside the general reception of this work kept me from doing so.

As I said before, my computer had crashed a few weeks prior, and I've lost the original works for 'With a Passion' and 'Why Aren't I Home', fueling my temporary hiatus from FanFiction in general. Oddly enough, on an external hard drive I found yesterday, I found the original work of this fanfic while rummaging through the mass of files on the drive. There are a few things that could have been done differently with this fic, but in general, I enjoyed writing this when I did, and I enjoyed reading it, as it brought back old memories from when I first started with FanFiction a couple years ago.

So I present to you a question.

Would you guys like to see this fic, in a sense, 'come back to life'?

I have tons of ideas as to where I can go with the plot, and as I stated above, I really enjoyed writing this. Many of you enjoyed reading this as well. Even to this day, I still get story hits and visitors upon checking my stats. That's crazy! I mean, I would've never anticipated the amount of positive reception that this has received.

As far as the actual 'Living Legends' portion, I want to expand on that a little. It's a perfect opportunity to further characterize Nick and Crowley. All in all, I'm willing to continue this.

Please, voice your opinion in a **review** or a **private message. **Please include what you'd like to see, as I'm open to plot ideas. Every review/PM will be answeredI'm elsewhere most of the time, so I'd get notifications on my phone, and I'd be able to answer them immediately.

The choice is yours!

-commodore17 (Invent. Animate)


	14. Epilogue

Short A/N:

Thanks for the feedback guys; here's what I promised.

As this is the epilogue to Living Legends, I'm proud to announce that I'm working on the next installment of this, to be out sometime this fall

Excuse any errors; I always find errors after uploading.

Correction: I had said that this takes place in between books six and seven. But I realized a while ago that seven takes place before book five. Therefore, this takes place shortly after the events of book six. That makes it in between books six and eight, then.

Beware: When reviewing this (I had typed these ages ago), I noticed that there was a little fluff towards the end. Not sure how you guys'll react to that. I'll find out soon enough

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><p>Living Legends<p>

The Epilogue

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><p>Life was good.<p>

Originally from the fief of Meric, Nick's life was reminiscent of the usual, common and mundane life of village locals. Therefore speaking, he had heard many of the same rumors that surfaced around other parts of the kingdom, and originally came to believe them. In turn, the stories regarding Halt and Will interested him greatly, and he found himself idolizing the Rangers. But from a distance, however, as his limited day to day activity prevented him from actively seeking a way into the Corps.

Then, the unthinkable happened. A scenario game, seemingly a way to let loose and enjoy a weekend of action packed activity, was by far the pinnacle of his adolescent life. He had gotten to meet the legendary Halt as well as the commandant himself, and albeit a broken wrist was the result of the weekend, Nick had gotten the opportunity of a lifetime, and gladly accepted without hesitation.

Over time, the teenager was able to showcase his true skill, ultimately impressing his master; the Ranger Corps commandant. In turn, he was officially 'in the mix'; in the same grouping as the men he idolized, as well as around forty five other elite archers. And that, to him was his bread and butter; the reason he could wake so easily despite the early hour.

"Nicholas?"

The apprentice looked up from his bow, as he had began his weekly maintenance on the woodwork. The sound came from outside his room.

"Yes?"

"Come here, please."

Nick raised from his seat, and motioned over to the cabin's second bedroom, where a desk cluttered with paperwork lay beside a sizable bed. Crowley was sitting in a chair, a large, black pouch concealing a particular item. The bearded man was smiling.

A grin surfaced on Nick's face; he had an idea as to what lay inside the pouch. "They're here?!"

"They sure are. I was beginning to worry that something might've happened." Crowley unraveled the parchment. "But they turned out to be a lot more than I expected."

There were two of them. At first glance, it seemed like a single article of clothing. But upon further inspection it was four garments that seemed to be of terrific quality. From the bottom up, a pair of faded, earthly green breeches possessed black patch beginning on the upper knee, ending mid-shin.

"Put this on," said the blond Ranger, handing the breeches to his apprentice. Next was a short sleeved shirt, a darker shade of the elemental green; it resembled the traditional mottled green and gray cloaks every Ranger wore.

With the short sleeves only extending down three quarters of the bicep, the following addition: a sleeve that began at the elbow and extended down to the hand possessed a particular pattern. It embodied the tall grass and shrubbery within a forest setting, carrying the exact shades and hues of forestry.

"This is amazing Crowley!" said the apprentice, upon putting on one of the elbow pieces. It remained on courtesy to its stretchy fabric; it attached to the hand through a hole, so that a single strap of cloth rest in the webbing between the thumb and forefinger. Crowley beamed.

"Isn't it? Now hold still."

Nick silently remarked how whenever Crowley seemed to be encompassed in a task, he would knit his brows together in a seemingly irritated fashion. But in actuality, the Ranger was merely concentrating on the task that lay before him.

"I had gotten yours a little bigger, but it seems to fit perfectly," Crowley said, spreading the final piece over his apprentice. The entire piece was the same artificial forestry, cowling at the head and ending at the lower shin. The entirety was a camouflage tactic, and Nick realized that through this, he would now be virtually non-existent within the plant-dense biome.

The craftmaster stood back. "Spread your arms out, like this," Crowley motioned the gesture used to determine one's wingspan. Once Nick complied, he turned a full three-sixty as his master's concentrating expression returned, now merged with the fingering of his full beard. Upon returning to his original position, which was in front of Crowley, the Ranger's face was fixed into a satisfactory smile.

"Perfect," Crowley began, observing the entirety. "You're filling out nicely, kiddo."

A smile twitched at the corners of Nick's lips as he tried his best to downplay the words of praise given by his mentor. He knew that verbal approval was few and far between; nevertheless, Crowley caught the gesture, but chose not to exploit his apprentice on it. He continued.

"We'll be needing these for our upcoming trip. But until then," Crowley paused. He produced a familiar item of Nick's from a pocket in his trousers.

"You want to explain this?"

It was a dark tan cloth, dedicated to the purpose of being tied around one's head, the extra two flaps of cloth dangling freely. These were common within the younger members of the Corps, Crowley knew. But the headband had one small attribute: the word "Hate" was streaked horizontally in black paint. He had seen Nick wearing this throughout Living Legends, and decided that it was high time to address it.

Nick knew better than to lie to Crowley, as his mentor could see through any of his facades. "I uh – I made it a few years ago." He raised his hands and shoulders in an unknowing gesture. "It represented how I felt at the time. I only wear it because it became a habit."

The bearded man narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew that Nick had arrived in Araluen only two years prior, which left his previous life in Meric as a mystery to Crowley himself. Additionally, he knew that his apprentice's family life was turbulent. But for know he'd drop the opportunity of exploitation once more.

"Okay," Crowley dropped the subject, smiling to neutralize any future curiosity. He peered out the window shutter, observing the sun's positioning in the sky. He needed to test out the new 'stealth suits', but something had been plaguing his mind.

"So, does every Ranger get one of these?" Nick asked. Crowley shook his head.

"No," he paused, as if wondering whether to continue. Then, sensing no pending regret in doing so, he further explained. "I need to talk to you about something. Have a sit down."

The apprentice complied, taking a seat on Crowley's bed, as the Ranger himself remained in his chair. He took in his master's uneasy expression, signaling that the topic of this particular conversation would be a bit more serious.

"Is there something wrong?" Nick interrogated. Once again, Crowley shook his head.

"No – well, _not quite_."

The strawberry-blond Ranger sighed before continuing. "Including us, only four Rangers will get this apparel. Considering that you've been my apprentice for a couple months now, I want to offer you a new opportunity."

The apprentice Ranger narrowed his eyes was Crowley's apprentice, he thought.

"A new opportunity?"

Crowley nodded. "Well – it isn't exactly new. You'll still remain as my apprentice, but under something a bit more advanced."

Seeing the boy's face of incomprehension, he was quick to assure. "Let me explain. You see, Halt and I have been thoroughly impressed with your progression as an apprentice. In fact, in the pace you're headed, I might have you graduate a little early."

A modest smile came over Nick. For the last three months, the Saturday tradition had became long-gone, as he trained constantly, perfecting his shot in every position, traditional as well as unorthodox. He worked on unseen movement even harder, but not for the annual Gathering. As a child, he wanted to become a Ranger. Now that that goal was a work-in-progress, he realized that it wasn't enough. Upon further realization, he wanted to become the best Ranger; the best shot in all of Araluen.

Crowley continued. "So, I offer this to you: A more advanced training regimen, to prepare you for a 'Special Forces' type of ordeal."

"Go on," Nick said, the interest prevalent in his voice.

"Which means that the training _will_ become three times as difficult in terms of combat, intelligence and other attributes. If you were to meet my expectations regarding this new training format, you'll still graduate early, though not as early as a traditional apprenticeship."

"I see. But what's this 'Special Forces' thing?"

Crowley smiled. This was going a lot better than he had initially expected. "Good question. You see, I plan on forming a Special Task Force, one that specializes in extremely covert operations – Even more covert than typical Ranger missions."

Nick nodded understanding. The Ranger continued.

"I want to train you past the benchmarks of a traditional five-year apprenticeship. Think of it as possessing all the attributes of a Ranger, but with a lot more involved. For instance, instead of the cloak, you'll wear this," he said, beckoning to the new addition that lay outside its original black pouch.

"Instead of only carrying the duties of a Ranger, you'll be called on to preform the most difficult of operations within Araluen. In turn, your salary would be much bigger – after your apprenticeship, of course."

"Will I still be apart of the Ranger Corps?"

"Of course."

The apprentice grinned a bit at the proposal. It was a handful, but as always, the end result seemed enticing, almost tantalizing. He would be lethal, dangerous; the one force to truly be reckoned with.

He would be unstoppable.

"When can I start?" he asked. Crowley's grin returned, this time wider, and jollier.

"Do I hear a yes?"

"Did you think I'd say 'no' to something like this?"

The commandant shrugged. "I did have my doubts. But I knew you'd say 'yes'. We'll start as early as possible." He peered through the shutters once more. It was late afternoon, but there was still daylight left.

"In fact, We could begin right now."

* * *

><p>If he could earn a royal for every time he had yawned that night, the commandant would be a millionaire.<p>

Well – a thousandaire, maybe. But truthfully, no amount of monetary value could account for the countless late nights, not to mention the monthly cost of replenishing his coffee supply. Being a Ranger came with its extended days, Crowley knew, but the contents of each document he had read that night seemed to recycle over and over in a repetitive fashion; A Battlemaster had become wounded in a hunting accident, and one of Crowley's fellow comrades now has an apprentice.

The sandy haired Ranger yawned; one more royal and he'd break the bank. It was brash of him to say that he didn't care at this point in time. But he _didn't, _and there was no use in pretending that he did, as he had been inhabiting his desk since the break of afternoon. And quite frankly, he didn't want to care; he was too tired to.

It was high time to take a break, he thought. There were two documents left. Crowley plotted that he'd read one of them, then rest for a moment, as the other was a break in the inked monotony. Crowley tore open the envelope, caring less about a clean rip. This one contained two notices: a meeting planned for the next week, and information regarding the assignment of an apprentice. A part of it said that most ideal time to seek an apprentice are between the months of August and November.

He pinned the parchment to the list of meetings he would need to attend. "There's another," he said, as if addressing the specialized pile of documents in the late night.

Taking the remaining document with him, Crowley wearily proceeded to the kitchen area of the cabin. Starting his hourly pastime of making coffee, he tore open the last envelope, and the subject was titled: Living Legends. Crowley grinned, belittling his exhaustion temporarily.

It was once again that time of the year.

A slight rapping came from the outside of the commandant's castle suite – a rather large one at that.

"Crowley!"

The familiar sound came from the main room of Crowley's apartment. Being a trusted adviser of King Duncan, followed by duties as the Ranger Commandant, Crowley's yearly earnings were rather affluent, to say the least. His castle suite was lofty, with a wall dedicated to large, airy windows within the main living space.

The commandant sipped graciously from his mug, smacking his lips in appreciation. Coffee never ceased to amaze him, he thought. Onward, he walked into the main room, shuddering slightly at the room's temperature.

"Nicholas, why aren't you sleeping?" he asked softly, to the figure sitting on the wooden floor beside an array of couches. The commandant's apprentice smiled, a little eagerly.

"I was waiting," he replied. Crowley closed two of the three shutters, minimizing the quantity of the crisp, nightly air that flowed within the homestead.

"For what?"

Nick rose from his seated position; he had been fiddling with the draw weight of his recurve bow, as if killing the time for something. "Hold on; stay right there." he said before maneuvering off into another room.

Crowley smiled warmly. It was now a year since he had assigned himself an apprentice. Unsure at first, as any craftmaster is, the process of time gradually broke through the barriers of reservation for both master and apprentice, and the sandy haired Ranger had become very fond of his protege. And to know that the feeling was mutual was very reassuring, sitting well within Crowley's emotions.

"So, as you know, you've been my craftmaster for almost a year now," Nick began. "And it _is _your birthday, as of about five minutes ago."

Crowley made a dismissing gesture. "Nick, what did I say about-"

"Wait! Just hear me out."

The Ranger chuckled, continuing to drink the sweet liquid. Nevertheless, his apprentice continued.

"Well, I got you a little gift, as a 'thanks for putting up with my crap for the last year' sort of thing." He handed Crowley a wooden encasing, then made his way back toward the couch, plopping onto the comfortable furniture. However, his eyes were still locked onto his master

The commandant opened the case, and raised his eyebrows at the sight: a gold-encrusted hilt, as well as a saxe knife, similar to the one he used. Upon further examination, the quality of the silverwork was represented by its gleam and seeming sharpness. He brought the gift, mug and final document with him to the couch, setting the mug and document onto a nearby table.

"Where'd you get the money for this?" he asked, examining the object even further. It was beautiful, he thought.

"I kill people for money; the usual."

"Good. Maybe you can help me pay all of these damned Rangers then."

Earning a short laugh from the younger figure, Crowley sat beside Nick, extending out onto the furniture himself, document in hand. The contents of this document were the teams that would be attending the annual "Living Legends", possibly the biggest archery event in the region. The Ranger scratched his full beard as he examined the parchment. Every year, roughly a couple thousand of people would congregate at the capital of Araluen for a weekend of scenario based action. A general would be chosen for each team, but the two teams were mere bastions for smaller teams and clubs, each with their own respective roster.

There was a minimum of four hundred for each team. On the sheet, there was a list of teams signed under Crowley's team, as he was voted as a general for this year. Smaller teams ranged from private clubs encompassing friends and friends of friends, to full fledged archery clubs; the big names of the kingdom with even bigger rosters. A trend of such clubs, bigger names and people of interest seemed to be under the same roster, as if to attract attention from the majority.

But, a brief skim of the teams and the document was placed onto the table, replacing it with the mug of coffee. This year, he would be a tad too busy for such events.

Nick, who had been laying parallel to the couch's length, therefore perpendicular to Crowley, now looked up, presented with an upside-down image of the commandant.

"You know what?"

Crowley peered down at the kid, and Nick continued. Smiling through eyes slightly reddened, courtesy of the late night, he spoke.

"You're alright." he said, merely downsizing how content he was with the current situation. Life in Meric, with an altogether turbulent family had been rather haphazard, and a change of scenery was well appreciated.

The commandant chuckled softly, comprehending the underlying message and comfort behind the words, before disheveling the boy's brown hair.

"You're 'alright' as well. A little nerve racking, but otherwise alright."

The apprentice laughed. "You serious?"

The Ranger chuckled himself, reassuring the youth. "I'm just kidding."

Crowley eyed the kid as Nick himself stared into the ceiling, aboard the never ending train of thought. His apprentice reminded him how long a year actually was, as when shrouded in the daily routine of paperwork and official business, time could fly effortlessly.

He spoke in a low, parental voice. "You should try to get some sleep."

Nick snorted. "I'm not even tired."

* * *

><p>The piercing cold wind was what Crowley woke to, in addition to the unfamiliarity of the place he dozed. He had fallen asleep on the couch some time ago while trying to read the last document. Hand vigorously rubbing his eyes, he examined his surroundings, including his apprentice, who was now snoring slightly.<p>

"So much for not being tired," he said, more to himself, as the directed audience was in a deep slumber.

Motioning over to the shutters one more, he closed all of them; the interior had became a little nippy while they were open. Next he placed the mug of cold coffee on a table in the kitchen area, leaving the document where it lay.

If there had been one thing that Crowley learned about Nick within a year, it was that when the apprentice slept, it would take a parade and a half to wake the teen up. Comically, Nick was a zombie in the morning. A bit crabby as well, Crowley thought.

But Nick was his apprentice, and although that was their relation on paper, a years time manifested their relationship into the beginning of something beyond master and student, as Nick would often seek personal advice from the bearded commandant, signaling the extensive amount of trust he confided in the Ranger. In turn, Crowley would unconsciously prefer to keep the kid out of harm's way, often setting curfews on Nick's free days. In hindsight, some of those curfews were ridiculous, but the proof of their effectiveness lay in the fact that his apprentice was still here, possessing the patience for his master's shenanigans. This was the beginning of the future.

He shook the figure slightly. "Nick?"

He was rewarded with snoring, as the boy remained asleep. He shook him again, this time a little harder.

"Nicholas."

Nothing.

Sighing slightly to himself, Crowley was unsurprised at his apprentice's lack of movement. He now carried the figure up and off of the furniture, grunting slightly at the kid's weight.

"I'm getting too old for this, kiddo," he muttered, once again to himself.

Nick seemed unaffected by this movement, essentially a ragdoll in the grasp of his mentor. Making it to one of the two bedrooms, he gently placed the boy onto the bed, bringing the two covers to his neck. He then rubbed Nick's head once more, a gesture he found himself doing more over the months.

"Good night, son."

On the way out, Crowley retracted what he had thought earlier. His shenanigans weren't ridiculous, they were necessary. This was the future of the Ranger Corps; The future of a dynasty.

This, was the beginning of a legend.

The End

* * *

><p>Thank you, very much, for taking the time to read this story. It took me a couple years to finish in the end, as I walked away from FanFiction for a while. But I'm proud to say that it's finished, and even prouder to say that this will not be the last time I write about Crowley and Nick.<p>

As of now, I'm currently working on the next installment of this, and I'll begin to upload once more this fall.

You can stick around for shoutouts and inspirations, or read the other great fics posted by other authors in this archive. The RA fandom is a great one, there are many awesome stories out there.

Shoutouts!

From first to last:

Thanks to:

**flaminglake**

**DarkArmedRanger**

**Risa Silvara**

**Tessi**

**Karasu-archer**

**MrShort**

**Bralt**

**NotAnonymous **(love the name)

**skyward27**

**SeekerMaxia**

**Master of Arrows**

**chocholatecheesecake23**

**Jeremy**

**TugLover**

**Ark803**

**ironman25305**

**josiah275**

**pi**

**Daniel**

**azzy the azeif**

**TugLover98**

For taking the time to review this fic. You guys rock!

Inspirations:

**Living Legends/CPX Sports:** For supplying the basis for this story. Living Legends is a fun scenario based paintball game hosted every year in Joliet, Illinois. Look it up on YouTube!

**Jacob Edwards: **A professional paintball player. Where I got the 'Hate' written across a headband idea from.

**The Last of Us: **This video game helped greatly with the characterization of Crowley towards the end. It's not a carbon copy, but I wanted to bring the sort of relationship shared between Ellie and Joel to the world of Ranger's Apprentice. You know, without the brutal murdering of zombies and other beings.

**Mirror's Edge: **Another game, where I also got tips regarding characterization from

**John Flanagan: **Honestly, if it hadn't of been for this man, I would've never found FanFiction, not to mention the Ranger's Apprentice series. One of my all time favorite authors, easily.

**Dmitry Samarov: **Wrote the book titled 'Hack'. This was the book that effectively cultivated my writing style, more prevalent in my newer work: 'Why Aren't I Home' and the later chapters of this fic.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading!<p> 


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